


Angel

by BiJane



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Charmed
Genre: Canon Lesbian Character, F/F, Post-Chosen, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:31:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1744736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiJane/pseuds/BiJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after the destruction of Sunnydale, Willow comes to the attention of the Elders as a good witch: and as such, she's assigned a whitelighter, in the form of Paige Matthews.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as an absurdly late birthday present to a friend.  
> Deviations from canon are as few as I could make them. The fact Buffy's fiction in the Charmed universe is obviously ignored, and the Charmed finale takes place before the Buffy finale.  
> Enjoy!

Paige had been taking a few trips ‘upstairs’, since trying to pay more heed to her whitelighter half. Getting to know some Elders, learning how things were more-often done, learning about useful ways to work with her charges, and above all trying to get them to change those god-awful robes.

Normally her trips upstairs were well-intentioned. Well-mannered. Sometimes it was a challenge, with the Elders and their maddening arrogance, but she managed.

The one exception came a few months after her relationship with Henry fell through. She’d been talking with her sisters about a date she’d had the other night, ignoring the low hum in her head of her charges.

That had been one moment. The next moment, there had been silence, the thoughts of her charges no longer registering. It had taken a few seconds for her to establish that they were alive: that the lack of any flare of surprise or pain probably just meant they’d been removed from her care. Another few moments to call Leo and find that he was fine, and that only she’d been affected.

A goodbye to her sisters later, and she’d orbed upstairs, to find out what the hell the Elders were playing at, revoking her charges. They seemed perfectly reasonable however, and allowed her to speak, before one lone Elder took her to a quieter room, to speak.

“Are you going to answer?” Paige said, as she was led away.

The Elder regarded her. He looked more or less as she imagined an Elder would look: pale-haired, clearly elderly, but far from infirm.

“We needed your attention,” the Elder said.

“You could’ve just rang me for that,” Paige said.

“True,” the Elder said. “Our purpose was threefold. First, to call you. Second, we have decided to reduce your number of charges: any whitelighter may serve as guide to a witch, but no one else may function as Charmed One.”

“And third?”

“There is a new charge we would like you to oversee,” the Elder said. “One, we believe, you are uniquely suited for.”

They came to a small room, in amongst the pale cloud and pearl architecture of the domain of the Elders. Within the chamber was a pale blue table, and atop it a hemisphere of purest crystal.

The Elder rested his hand, palm-flat, on the pristine surface. Within it, light flickered: and a woman’s face became visible.

Red-haired, her eyes resolute but her smile playful. Her hair was long, reaching past her shoulders, and as Paige watched the red gave way to a holy white.

“She is a witch,” the Elder said. “An unusual breed, to be certain. She was not born to her powers, as you were: instead, she gained them later in life, in no small part due to a maw near her residence known as a hellmouth.”

“Hellmouth, huh?” Paige said. “Doesn’t sound good.”

The Elder shook his head. “The hellmouth itself is not intrinsically evil,” he said. “The power it bestows, however, can often be… unstable. Regardless, multiple people are touched by a hellmouth every day. This kind of witch is nothing new, though it is a nuisance. We’re unable to keep track of all of them, as there is no way to gauge where they will come from.”

“Evidently you tracked her down,” Paige gestured at the hemisphere.

The woman’s expression was altering. The playful smile had become positively radiant, and her skin seemed to glow. Her once-red hair was now entirely white, and moving as though caught in a silent breeze.

“ True,” the Elder said. “What do you know of Slayers?”

“Just what I’ve read in the Book of Shadows,” Paige said, frowning at the change in topic. “We’ve never met her. One woman born in each generation, bestowed with strength and resilience to fight demons.”

The Elder bowed his head. “She has altered that spell,” the Elder said. “Just days ago. Previously, the Slayer was a lone woman picked from an existing pool of potentials, upon the death of the previous. It was a great spell, by all accounts: incredibly complex, and incredibly powerful, to as last as long as it has. Like it was nothing, this witch changed everything.”

“How?” Paige said.

For a moment, she was frightened. Frightened that this witch might have eradicated the Slayer line by ending the spell, that she was an evil Paige was being sent to vanquish. Then, the Elder smiled.

“She did what we didn’t think possible,” the Elder said. “Where once one would have had the power, now all with have it. Every Potential a Slayer, every one with the power.”

A moment of silence. Paige glanced at the figure in the crystal, as the image replayed. She had red hair again, and a playful smile. There was a resolution there, also, that Paige hadn’t noticed before.

“I still don’t get why you wanted me up here,” Paige said.

“This was what brought her to our attention as a good witch,” the Elder said. “We noticed high levels of magic in the region last year, and some time before that also, but put it down to the hellmouth. Now the Slayer-enchantment has been altered, however, we suspect she had a hand, however slight, in those events,” a pause. “From recent days alone, however, we can conclude she is a witch of phenomenal power. As such, she requires a whitelighter.”

Of course.

“Me, I take it?” Paige said. No other reason for her to be up here. “Why me? Aren’t there more experienced whitelighters, ones who’ve dealt with things like this before?”

The Elder shook his head. “There has never been a witch quite like this before,” he said. “Hellmouth-borne witches are nothing new. One of this strength, however, is.”

Paige looked at the ball again. She felt a shiver at the Elder’s tone. It wasn’t something she’d heard often before, but Paige was beginning to have the distinct impression that the Elders were scared.

“We have chosen you for three reasons,” the Elder said. “First, you are a witch: you understand her in a way few of us can. Second, you, like her, came into your power later in life. Third, you are part of the Power of Three: and, if the worst comes to pass and this prodigious witch is not a force for good…”

The Elder fell silent. He didn’t need to continue. Pursing her lips, Paige’s eyes returned to the orb.

If worst came to worst, she could vanquish the witch. Just looking at her face in the crystal, however, Paige found she didn’t want to.

“We know more about her,” The Elder spoke, “But it would not do to share it all. It would be best if you made up your own mind. Be wary, and be safe.”

A pause. That wasn’t hugely encouraging.

“What’s her name?” Paige said, silently accepting the task. The Elder nodded: smiled, gratefully.

“Willow,” he said, “Willow Rosenberg.”

* * *

 

The Elders had given her a place to orb down to. It was just a pity that place was in the middle of nowhere. An empty plain, and a road: a road that was empty until, moments later, a yellow school bus trundled along it.

It was then Paige realized she was standing in its way. She had enough to roll her eyes, _great job Elders_ , before darting to the side, out of its way. As it passed her, it slowed.

The door opened, to reveal a fairly old man driving. A blonde woman stood by the open door and, scanning through the windows, Paige could only see a sign of one more occupant. While she couldn’t make out any details of that occupant, only seeing their silhouette through the window, she assumed it was Willow.

There was something odd about the woman’s manner though, and her dress; the same as the driver’s. A tiredness it took Paige a moment to place: battle-weariness. It was a feeling she knew too well.

Hours or days after a major battle, the mental and physical exhaustion still found ways of catching up with you.

“Are you ok?” the blonde in the doorway said. “Sorry, Giles didn’t see you.”

“I looked away for one moment,” the driver said, quietly, “She wasn’t anywhere a moment before, I-”

“His eyesight’s not what it used to be,” the blonde said, smiling.

“Age jokes now?” he said, “Really Buffy? You’ve dated older.”

Buffy? Strange name.

“Sorry,” Paige said, a little taken aback by the two’s evident friendship, even if it was punctuated by playful bickering. “I didn’t mean to-” she hesitated. “Ok, this may be a stupid question, but is there a Willow Rosenberg in there with you?”

Paige’s eyes darted to the silhouette at the back of the bus. It – she? – still wasn’t moving, just lying there. It had to be Willow though, surely: the Elders couldn’t be that useless.

The blonde at the doorway to the bus - Buffy? – shifted her posture: became more defensive. A physical fighter by the look of it, and trained; perhaps the Slayer? No, a Slayer if what the Elders said was right. Maybe the original, she certainly seemed well-trained.

“Who’re you?” Buffy said.

“Uh, Paige Halliwell,” Paige said, opting to use her birth surname rather than her preferred in case they’d recognize it. “Witch. Half-whitelighter, which is kinda why I’m here.”

Buffy frowned; glanced back at the driver, who was presumably Giles. He frowned.

“I think I’ve heard of her,” he said. “Halliwell, it’s a line of witches. San Francisco area, I think. They were important historically, I’d no idea they were still around.”

Some scholar he was. Paige suppressed the urge to ask if he’s heard of the Power of Three.

“And whitelighter?” Buffy said.

“I know the name,” he said, and hesitated. “Haven’t encountered them before. They’re good, I think, but my books are in England. I couldn’t tell you more, offhand.”

“I could get your books,” Paige said, speaking up. “You know, if you want. Give me the address, I can orb there and back.”

Buffy tilted her head, apparently uncertain what ‘orb’ meant in that context. Paige sighed, and turned to white light on the spot, just for a second or two. Then, refocusing, she reformed a step closer to the bus.

“Told you she wasn’t there before,” Giles said, quietly. Buffy rolled her eyes.

“Come in, then,” the blonde said. She seemed to have decided Paige wasn’t a threat: or, at least, that if Paige was a threat she would have done something with her powers other than announce herself.

Paige moved closer, and Buffy stepped back. Getting into the bus, Paige couldn’t help but notice how damaged it looked.

Battered, and stained with what might have been food, and might have been blood. There was a mess of clothes in one corner, and a few chairs snapped back, broken to serve, presumably, as beds. A cracked window had been boarded shut.

It was an oddly humble site, given what the Elders had told her. Then again, Paige reflected, Buffy and Giles have every sign of having fought somewhat recently, and Willow’s grand spell begged the question of just what required countless Slayers to be activated.

A redhead with a familiar face sat toward the back of the bus. She had a silver creation of metal that resembled nothing so much as a scythe on her lap, and had her eyes closed, neck tilted back, breathing slowly. Asleep.

Buffy quickly introduced the three on the bus: all as Paige had guessed. Herself, Buffy, the driver Giles, and Willow Rosenberg.

“She’s wiped,” Buffy said, as Paige’s gaze lingered on the woman she knew to be Willow. “Big spell a couple of days back, still recovering. She was all dazed and grinning, and a little bit high, for a day after, then she zonked.”

“Heard about that,” Paige said, absently. “Slayer-spell. It’s what brought her to their attention. Uh, the Elder whitelighters.”

“Yeah,” Buffy said. “I was going to ask about that. What are you exactly?”

“Whitelighters?” Paige said. “Uh, it’s a long story. Let’s settle for guardian angels. Witch-only guardian angels. We guide, help, chat, comfort. Usually heal, but I’ve never gotten the hang of that.”

“Could’ve done with you last year,” Giles said, from the wheel. “And the year before that. And the year before that.”

“I bet,” Paige said, and winced to look at them. “I said it was a long story. Apparently they didn’t know about Willow: normally the Elders watch genetic lines, families, witches who’re born to their power, like I was. Like my sisters were. Willow wasn’t, so… Only found out about her with the Slayer-spell.”

Buffy sat on one of the broken beds, near the front of the bus, and just behind the driver’s seat. Paige sat on the other side of the aisle, facing Buffy, and occasionally looking sideways, and crabbing her neck. She sat on the same side as her sleeping charge.

The chair creaked under her; wobbled. She tensed, hesitating, glad to feel that it stayed secure. After a few moments more, Giles began to drive, again.

“What happened here?” Paige said.

There was no way the bus was usually in this condition. Buffy shrugged.

“Ever locked a dozen teenaged girls in a confined space for a few hours?” Buffy said.

“Not… personally,” Paige said, “Can imagine it, though.”

“Add super-strength.”

Paige winced, glancing around the bus. Well, that would explain the damage. Maybe even why the remaining seemed so tired.

“Slayers?” Paige guessed.

“Newborn Slayers,” Buffy said. “Still getting used to their powers. It was hectic.”

“Where are they now?”

Buffy shrugged. “Faith… borrowed a bike at our last rest stop. Slayer. She’s scouting ahead with a new Slayer, seeing if there are any demons to watch out for. Dawn – my sister – she took a few with her in the last city we passed, to chase up a rumour of a woman with a lot of strength. Probably a confused Slayer. There’s a lot to sort out.”

There would be, Paige reflected. She found herself glancing at the slumbering redhead again, awed by what Willow had done. While she was no stranger to powerful magic, altering something on a global scale was still something seriously impressive.

“Kennedy went over a day ago,” Buffy said. “Back when Willow was still awake, and dazed. She could be impatient.”

“Who?” Paige said.

“Willow’s girlfriend,” Buffy said. “Ex now, I guess. Just to let you know, if you’re meant to be here to comfort Willow… And before Kennedy there was Tara, and she-” Buffy caught herself, and shook her head. “No, Wills should tell you that story. If she chooses to.”

Paige nodded, sympathising if not understanding.

A brief silence. Paige didn’t want to press the presumably-Slayer just yet, nor did she want to wake Willow. She had only to wait until the witch awoke.

They drove on, Giles taking only quiet roads, over dusty, empty plains. Maybe it was to make sure they could keep an eye out for any demons who fancied their chances against a worn out Slayer, perhaps it was because they couldn’t cope with busy roads just yet.

“Excuse me,” Giles said, from the driver’s seat. “Halliwell, wasn’t it?”

“Paige Matthews, actually,” Paige said. “Only their half-sister. And adopted. It’s a long story. But yeah, one of the Halliwell sisters. Why?”

“It’s just, I’ve heard something,” Giles said. “If the stories I’ve read are accurate, was there not a book that went with the family? It’s meant to be the foremost compendium on an entire demonic suborder.”

“Book of Shadows?” Paige said, uncertain. “Not sure what suborder you’re talking about, but it has a lot in about demons. And other stuff. Why?”

“I was wondering,” Giles hesitated, “Could I possibly have a look at it, sometime? It’s just, I’ve always-”

At that point, Buffy just burst out laughing. It was oddly pleasant to see: her still grime-streaked, sternly set face creasing with genuine amusement. She laughed far longer than whatever it was amused her would have seemed to justify, but no one made a move to interrupt her.

Eventually, she quietened, lifting and shaking her head as she inhaled. She wore a smile more comfortably, now.

“Giles and his books,” she said, by way of excuse, to Paige. “He gets like this sometimes.”

There was a stirring toward the back of the bus; Paige felt a twinge in the back of her mind, the quiet spot she knew to be the domain of her charges’ thoughts. Or charge’s, now.

A quick nod to Buffy, and Paige turned, to see the redhead stirring. Paige stood, quietly slipping down the central aisle of the bus, feeling Willow awake.

The redhead’s eyes flickered opened. They shone with a brief, soft, pale light; an aftereffect of tremendous magic, before she blinked it away. Then, Willow shifted, pulling herself up straighter. It was only after a moment she turned, blearily making out Paige sitting on the opposite side of the bus and facing her intently.

“Hiya,” Willow said, still clearly drowsy. “How are- who are you?”

She didn’t seem at all perturbed by the presence of a stranger on the bus. Maybe it could be put down to the spell, maybe it was simple sleepiness.

“Oh,” Paige said, “I’m, um, your whitelighter,” Willow tilted her head, not understanding. “Uh, your guardian angel, I guess.”

“Oh,” Willow blinked. Then, a goofy grin. “Nifty.”


	2. Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow and Paige start to talk, and get to know one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's mostly just introducing everyone, and having fun with combining the two universes. I do way too much of that with crossovers.   
> Enjoy!

Buffy and Giles sat near the front of the bus, occasionally talking. Paige could only hear snippets: apparently they were working out a route to Cleveland, and what they should do on the way there.

Paige and Willow sat in the back, talking. Paige had quickly explained the basics of whitelighters and witches: neglecting, of course, to mention to Willow she’d scared the Elders. Scared them more than she’d ever heard them being, even when the Source of All Evil and the Titans were let loose.

Willow had passed the strange scythe to Buffy, to speak more easily with Paige.

“So…” Willow said, slowly, still only just waking up, “I’m not a witch?”

Paige had just finished explaining why the Elders had taken so long to assign her a whitelighter. Willow’s expression had clouded for a moment before she spoke. Her tone had sobered, now: Paige wasn’t entirely sure whether that was a good thing.

“Kind of,” Paige said, “You are, just not the normal kind, I guess.”

“I’m not normal?” Willow echoed. Then the serious edge to her voice faded, and she smiled. “Heard that before.”

“Normal witches are born,” Paige said. “Witchcraft is in their blood. You- you weren’t like that. But through willpower and location and strength, you made it so. You made yourself a witch. I mean, it happens, but- it’s rarer. Much rarer.”

Willow frowned as she absorbed the information. She tilted her head; Paige hesitated. She’d expected openness to be the best policy, especially in this situation.

Still, Paige wasn’t entirely sure that this was helping. If anything, she just seemed to have confused Willow. Unsurprising, if this was her first introduction to the concept.

“Guess it explains Amy,” Willow said, murmuring to herself more than Paige. When Paige frowned, Willow spoke up: “Witch, in Sunnydale. Her mother was too: thought Amy’d just looked at the same books. Guess if it runs in the family… Don’t think she had a whitelighter though.”

“We can be inconspicuous,” Paige said. “Or maybe she was like you, it’s possible. Was she good?”

“Huh?”

“Whitelighter,” Paige said, “It’s in the name, kinda. Only good witches get them. As soon as a witch goes evil, they get revoked.”

“Oh,” Willow said, and looked down. “No wonder it took so long for me to get one.”

Almost immediately, Buffy came back from the front of the bus. Paige couldn’t say she was surprised that she’d been listening in; she needed to earn their trust, apparently. And Willow had been through a lot by the sound of it, it was no wonder Buffy was being cautious.

Still, the Slayer didn’t join in the conversation, only sitting closer, apparently just in case Willow needed someone she knew. Paige hesitated, uncertain.

There was something she didn’t know here, no question. Still, Willow seemed friendly enough now, and if she didn’t want to share, then Paige wouldn’t force her.

“That was only because they didn’t know how to find you,” Paige said. “The fact I got sent here at all is proof you’re a good witch.”

She spoke blindly, but was gratified to see Willow smile, somewhat. Perhaps she needed confirmation of that.

“So every good witch has a whitelighter?” Willow said.

“Pretty much,” Paige said, “Well, not ones like you. Self-made witches, I don’t know if there’s any proper term. You get one when we find you, though.”

Willow glanced sideways: out the window. A few seconds passed.

“Is there anyone you want to ask about?” Paige said, softly. “I can find out, if I orb upstairs. If you want me to.”

A few more moments of silence. Slowly, Willow turned back, regarding Paige. Then, she spoke with a voice that was barely audible. Little over a whisper.

“Tara Maclay,” Willow said. Then, louder: “So I became a witch because I wanted to be?”

“From what I’ve gathered, yeah,” Paige said. “Harder than just that though, it takes a hellmouth, and a strong will. A really strong will. I- was she near a hellmouth?”

Paige didn’t use her name. She couldn’t say way, beyond the fact there were clearly bad memories here. Buffy had mentioned a Tara, too.

“She was a witch before Sunnydale,” Willow said, and for a moment she smiled. Then that expression faded, to be replaced by pain; “I don’t know whether there was a hellmouth there too. She didn’t like to talk about it. There might have been.”

Paige nodded.

If nothing else, this would hopefully be a step towards gaining her charge’s trust. Ideally, even friendship. She couldn’t serve any purpose without that.

Even without that, though, Willow seemed to want to know. Whether she sought any titbit of information, or possessed a genuine curiosity, Paige couldn’t say. Either way, she would be glad to help.

“If you want me back,” Paige said, “Call my name, Paige. Just call, and I’ll be down here in a moment. Ok?”

“Ok.”

They shared a smile, before Paige was gone, turning to orbs of light, and rising up through the roof of the bus, and away.

For a few seconds, Willow stared at the empty air. She straightened in her seat, and rubbed her eyes clear from her sleep. A yawn; she was still worn from the great spell she’d woven. Then she hesitated, suddenly finding herself unsure of what she could do.

“You good, Will?” Buffy said, from a few rows in front.

Willow nodded. “Sleepy,” she managed another smile. “Don’t think I’ve done anything that exhausting.”

“You affected the entire world,” Buffy said, “Take a nap, you’ve more than earned it.”

Willow chuckled, and yawned again. Buffy moved back until she sat in the same row as Willow.

“So, what do you think of her?” Buffy said.

Willow mouthed the word ‘Paige’, not entirely sure whether or not that constituted summoning her whitelighter. She’d have to ask. Regardless, Buffy nodded, and Willow shrugged.

“She’s nice,” Willow said.

They again lapsed into quiet. Paige hadn’t been around long enough for Willow to gain more of an opinion. Nice was enough, really.

Then she recognized the look in Buffy’s eyes. She sighed, from fondness more than frustration. It was more than a friendly query: was Paige safe? Was she a threat?

Buffy had needed to focus on pragmatism over kindness in the past months, with the threat of the First looming. Such habits couldn’t be given up so quickly; Willow smiled.

“I think she’s genuine,” Willow said. “She’s trying to help. She-”

Willow hesitated, and stopped again. No need to talk about Tara unnecessarily. It hurt.

Apparently, Buffy understood. The blonde nodded and, recognizing Willow’s need for quiet, moved back toward the front of the bus.

Willow waited, trying not to fall asleep again, immediately. This was the longest she’d been awake since leaving the Sunnydale crater.

After a few minutes of staring out the window, there was a quiet chiming. Orbs shone in the centre of the bus, and the familiar, dark-haired Paige came into being. She regained her bearings, looking from side to side, before sitting next to Willow.

“Hi again,” Willow said.

“Hi,” Paige said. “Think I found answers for you. If you want?”

Willow nodded, silently. Slightly worriedly: what was she to think if Tara did have a whitelighter?

Well, she wouldn’t accept Paige, then. As it had done a thousand times, the scene replayed in front of her mind. A gun shot, a shattered window, a shirt stained red.

Paige had said whitelighters could heal. If they could heal, and hadn’t saved her, Willow didn’t want anything to do with her.

Willow blinked, trying to clear her mind, and school her expression again.

After a moment, hesitating at the sudden harshness that had come across the normally-gentle redhead’s face, Paige spoke.

“Well, firstly,” she said, “Found out you were right. There’s an Amy Madison registered, formerly of Sunnydale, power of transfiguration. When she started using her powers for personal gain, her whitelighter left.”

She wasn’t sure what made her start with that. Maybe just being able to put the redhead at ease. Still, Willow watched her, as if to silently ask _and?_

“Tara Maclay had the power of amplification,” Paige said. “Her mother was a witch too, with the power of aura-reading. From what the record-keeper said, her powers were sealed by her mother, at the insistence of her father, shortly before she died. The same happened to me, when I was growing up, my powers had been sealed. I didn’t know I had them, though she did. And when a witch’s powers are sealed, she stops being a witch.”

“You left her,” Willow said, simply.

“Not me personally, but yeah,” Paige said. “It was- there are only so many whitelighters. We can’t look after every witch and ex-witch, as well as our other charges. I’m guessing she was kind of like you, though: she wanted to be a witch again strongly enough, that the hellmouth answered. We didn’t know.”

At that, Willow smiled, only somewhat bitterly.

“She was strong,” Willow spoke, soft. “Always was.”

A pause. The records up where the Elders lived hadn’t gone into a great deal of detail; a witch so young, who had every indication of never using her powers again, in the grand scheme of things she seemed ignorable, compared to all the others.

They were wrong. Unsurprisingly, really, but the Elders were nothing if not set in their ways. Still, it meant Paige knew nothing except the fact this Tara had a relatively obscure power, had lived in Sunnydale for some length of time, and then something happened.

And, thinking about it, Paige wasn’t sure she wanted to know the whole story.

“Are you ok?” Paige spoke, after a quiet few seconds.

“No,” Willow said, before smiling, and shrugging. “But I’m coping. Don’t worry about me, I’m used to it.”

There didn’t seem much of a way to respond to that. Thankfully, after a few more seconds of silence, Willow was the one to continue the conversation.

“What’s amplification?” she said.

“About what it sounds like,” Paige said. “Affects other peoples’ or creatures’ powers. Can be offensive, if you want someone to lose control, but it’s more often used to support others,” she paused, “I don’t know if she’d have had it, when she came to Sunnydale. I don’t know how this hellmouth stuff works.”

Willow shifted on the spot, momentarily lost in a memory. The first time she’d really met Tara, a memory of that, of the Gentlemen; and of taking her hand, and feeling a power she didn’t know she’d possessed barricading the door.

“She could do more than that,” Paige said, when the silence dragged on. “Which you probably know. All witches have an inherent power, in addition to being able to do spell and potion work. Plus it’s probably different when a hellmouth’s involved.”

Willow nodded, to show she’d heard. Still, she didn’t speak, caught both in reminiscing, and an anger that still didn’t feel natural to her, but always threatened to overwhelm.

Tara should’ve had a whitelighter. Someone to be there, to be able to heal her. Maybe these Elders were justified in not guarding witches with their powers sealed, maybe not. Regardless, it burned Willow to know just how close Tara could have come to surviving.

She felt a familiar prickle in the back of her eyes, a too-familiar seductive voice at the back of her mind. Wincing, Willow shut her eyes; looked away from Paige, instinctively not wanting her own whitelighter to see what she could become.

“Buffy,” Willow said, and raised her voice. “Buffy,” again, more urgently, “Scythe, please.”

She didn’t speak much: didn’t trust herself to. She knew she could say cruel things, when the darkness within her rose.

“Are you ok?” Paige said, uncertain, as Buffy slipped past her, to pass the silver scythe to Willow. “If you need healing, I probably can’t do it, but I can call someone who can?”

Another few moments of silence. Buffy watched Willow, and the redhead held the scythe, breathing softly. When Willow opened her eyes, Buffy looked into them, and nodded. Then, as the blonde moved back to her seat, she turned to Paige.

“She’s fine,” Buffy said, somewhat curtly.

“No,” Willow said, exhaling. Her voice was kinder now; lighter. “You should know,” she looked at Paige, “If you’re going to be my guardian angel, and all. It was- There’s part of me I don’t like. I got desperate a while ago, took in dark magic. I don’t- I control it, most of the time. Rarely use it, but it’s there. Scythe’s the only thing that helps me control it. I don’t know if that makes me a bad witch or what, but it’s there.”

Paige hesitated. For the life of her, she couldn’t picture Willow being evil, try as she might. Then again, she couldn’t have imagined Phoebe becoming evil, before the matter of Cole and the Source. Instinct wasn’t always accurate.

In this case, however, it felt more so. Whatever Willow was, whatever she could be, malevolent wasn’t on the list. At least, pure malevolence wasn’t.

“I see,” Paige said. She didn’t know enough to contradict Willow. “It doesn’t matter. The Elders wouldn’t have sent me, unless you were good.”

A lie, technically. Part of the reason she’d been sent, was to assess how good Willow was. Still, Willow seemed to need the comfort. The confirmation.

“Besides, you saved the world,” Paige said. “Or at least had a hand in it, a few days ago. I only heard a few details, but there was something about the original evil. Whatever else you’ve done, you saved the world from it.”

“And tried to destroy the world last year,” Willow said.

Now, however, her tone wasn’t quite so dark. She might even have been playful, even if Paige had the impression she wasn’t joking. Yet more she couldn’t picture the redhead doing.

Still, she decided to respond in kind: making light of atrocities. If that was what helped Willow, then so be it.

“My ex-brother-in-law was the Source of All Evil,” Paige said, shrugging. “No one’s perfect.”

Willow blinked: then, surprisingly, chuckled. “That sounds like a story,” she said.

“I guess,” Paige said. “Sounds like you’ve got a few too.”

“You know mine,” Willow said. “Some of them, at least.”

Not enough. Paige didn’t say that, though.

“You want to hear about me?” Paige said.

“If you want,” Willow said. She looked down. “I’ve been talking about me a lot. It feels weird.”

“Ok,” Paige said, “I guess. We’ll hopefully be spending a bit of time together, so probably best. Whatcha want to know?”

And so it began. Paige outlined much of what she’d lived, while Willow listened. Willow even managed to stay awake throughout it.

Paige started when she’d first met her sisters, and described how she’d come into her power. How she’d been amazed, and scared: how she’d learned to adapt, eventually. It was a fear Willow could sympathize with.

As Paige went on, she gave only the broadest outline of what she’d done. There wasn’t much opportunity for detail. She spoke vanquishing the Source, and of the Avatars, and of her two nephews, and her to-be-born niece.

The road grew increasingly busy as Paige spoke, until they were clearly on the outskirts of a city. They were in Cleveland, judging by the signs.

When they entered the busier streets, Paige fell silent, with nothing else to say. Willow didn’t ask much more: she’d queried a little, and asked a few questions, but apparently everything she wanted to know had been answered.

It was after a few seconds that Paige sighed. She hadn’t wanted to ask, respecting Willow’s need for secrets, but it had been playing on her mind. It seemed like something she’d need to know, as Willow’s whiteligher.

“Who was she?” Paige said, softly. “Tara.”

A pause: Willow looked down. “My everything,” she said.

Almost immediately, Paige regretted her question. She opened her mouth to apologize, and Willow shook her head.

“Don’t apologize,” Willow said. She chuckled at Paige’s frown: “What? I know that expression. It’s not- you’ve been open with me. Guess I should be too.”

“Not if you don’t want to,” Paige said.

“I do,” Willow said. She paused: exhaled. “Tara, she’s- was- is my everything. The only other witch I’ve really known,” a pause, “Well, that wasn’t a rat. Long story,” her momentarily light tone faded. “She died. Was killed, in front of me. He took her life, and I couldn’t help her. I tried, I just…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not as much as he was,” a flicker of darkness. Willow gripped the scythe, tighter. “It’s not something I’m proud of.”

Paige took her hand. Whitelighters could heal physical wounds: and while that was something she’d only really managed on Henry, back when things had worked between them, Paige couldn’t help but wish she could do the same for injuries of the mind.

Maybe she should have been frightened, or scared. It was true enough that the Elders had told her to be wary of Willow: to warn them if she showed signs of being a danger. And apparently she’d tried to end the world.

Somehow, though, Paige didn’t worry.


	3. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While 'up there', an old acquaintance of Willow's makes herself known to Paige.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the part of the story my friend, who served as beta, screamed at me, and called me mean. Enjoy!

****The bus had been parked and left behind. Faith had gone ahead and booked Giles, Buffy and Willow a place: Paige only came by when called. They weren’t the grandest rooms, but they were enough.

A few days passed. Willow called Paige often, though more to talk than seek help. There were a few demons, certainly, but they were nothing Buffy, a handful of local Slayers, and Willow couldn’t take care of with ease. They didn’t need a whitelighter’s aid.

At some point along the way, they’d grown to trust Paige. Her aid in moving in had been a help for that: it was much easier to call her and ask her to wave her hand and say a word, than it was to carry their (admittedly few) belongings inside, bit by bit.

“Paige!” Willow called, when the day was almost done. After a few seconds, her whitelighter orbed in.

“Hiya,” Paige said, reorienting herself. She sat on a chair, opposite the also-sitting Willow. “Anything happen today?”

Willow shrugged. “Few vamps, four demons. Nothing big.”

“Yeah, same here,” Paige said. “Couple of demons in San Francisco. Nothing much,” she paused, contemplative. “I was a vampire once.”

Willow blinked. Then, she tilted her, head, peering into Paige’s mouth; Paige chuckled.

“I’m not _now_ ,” she said.

“I… didn’t know it was something you could get better from,” Willow said. “Well, not easily at least.”

“Different kind of vampire,” Paige said. “Think so, at least. Kill the queen, her nest dies, and anyone who didn’t drink blood gets transformed back.”

“Handy,” Willow said. “Sound easier to deal with to. Our vamps don’t have queens.”

Paige chuckled, and Willow shifted where she sat, before wincing. Immediately, Paige leant forward, frowning.

“You ok?” she said. Willow shrugged.

“Yeah,” she said, “Magic-proof demon. No trouble, just got a bit close before we realized. It’s nothing serious.”

Paige stood, still a little uncertain. Willow’s posture had altered, putting as little weight as she could on her right side. Paige reached forward, her hands pausing in midair.

“Can I?” Paige said, hesitantly. Willow leaned back, allowing her to look.

At the very least, Paige reflected, she’d a fair bit of experience with injuries. She should be able to judge its seriousness.

Slowly, she lifted Willow’s top, baring the lower half of her abdomen, and revealing a wound that was probably shallow but, due to its position, looked relatively deep. She winced at the sight, though nodded appreciatively at the spell-work already in place, keeping the blood within flowing as it should, through veins that were no longer there.

Though she couldn’t quite say why, Paige reached out towards the wound, somewhat amazed Willow could brush it off as ‘non-serious’. Her fingertip brushed the edge, and she quickly pulled back.

No point in hurting Willow. Not moving, Paige looked up, toward Willow’s face, trying to gauge how she felt.

“Sure you’re ok?” Paige said, soft.

A moment of silence. Paige felt a strange rush, an instant of affection for her charge, and her bravery. Then Willow closed her eyes; exhaled, quietly. When she opened your eyes, she glanced at Paige, and then glanced down.

“Thank you,” she said. Paige hesitated.

“For- uh, for what?” Paige said.

She followed Willow’s gaze down, eyes coming to rest on the redhead’s side. Where once there’d been a jagged cut, a wound it was almost painful to just look at, now there was just pale skin. Smooth skin, with no sign of a scar, nor even a speck of red. Paige blinked.

“Thought you said you couldn’t do that?” Willow said, uncertain. Slowly, Paige touched the healed wound.

“I can’t,” she said, and hesitated. “Well, not usually. It’s-” she paused, again, before lapsing into a quickly-spoken ramble. “You know how it is. All magic needs a trigger: some kind of feeling, or thought, or gesture. Healing- I’ve never been able to reliably call up the trigger. Only managed it a couple of times, and that was for someone…” she fell silent; shook her head.

“So...?” Willow said, uncertain. Paige shrugged.

“Guess I’m getting better?” she said, not really believing it.

* * *

 

Willow didn’t always need her, of course. Even if Paige was able to heal, now, Willow had the distinct advantage of living in a city populated by directed Slayers. Those that knew what was going on had, unfortunately, not yet made it to San Francisco’s Slayer population.

As such, Paige spent some time elsewhere. After her unexpected triggering of her healing power, Paige had retreated upstairs, to where the Elders and some whitelighters called home. Best place to find out about her powers.

“Excuse me?” a new arrival drew her out of her confused reading.

She hadn’t been learning much, anyway. As she already knew, the trigger for whitelighter healing was love, and presumably due to her half-whitelighter status, a kind of love she couldn’t easily summon up. The last trigger she’d had was Henry, and he’d been the furthest thing from her mind, then.

Paige looked up, to see someone garbed in the typical robes of a whitelighter, when up here. She rarely bothered with the robes: some deviation from the rules was apparently expected from her family, by now.

The whitelighter pulled their hood down, to reveal blonde locks, and a smiling, if shy, face.

“Um,” she spoke, “Are you Paige Matthews?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, and frowned. “Do I know you?”

“N-no,” the blonde shook her head. “Nothing like that. It’s just- Um, they asked me to become a whitelighter last year. When I died, like normal. They don’t- I knew people. Person. I can’t see her, not if she’s to move on. That I get, it’s just- it’s hard, you know?”

Paige hesitated. The blonde winced in self-consciousness.

“I’m not making much sense, am I?” she said, and sighed. “I just want to talk to her. Or at least send a message, and I can’t. I- I know their reasons, I just… and I think you know her. That’s what they said, anyway.”

Paige paused, quickly managing to put things together. It had been something on her mind, recently.

Willow had mentioned someone. A good person: the kind of person who’d be asked to become a whitelighter, and would likely agree. That, and blonde, slightly shy, mild stutter.

“Are you- I might be wrong in which case ignore me, but are you Tara?” Paige said.

The blonde whitelighter nodded: and smiled, relieved. So she didn’t need to introduce herself.

“You know Willow,” Tara said. “That’s what they- that’s what everyone said. Can you talk to her?”

Paige nodded, perhaps too quickly. She didn’t need to think about her answer. With the time she’d spent with Willow, the conversations she’d had, and what she’d learnt, there was no way she’d ever refuse that request.

“She misses you,” Paige said. Tara looked down.

“I know,” a pause. “I know, just-”

Paige smiled sympathetically. “I know how the Elders are with rules,” she said. They’d done the same with Prue, from what she’d gathered: made it so the now-lost Halliwell sister couldn’t see the others.

In a way, maybe it was unsurprising they’d given the same kind of rule to Tara. Even if that meant they would have known of Willow, and Willow’s power, for a much greater length of time.

And hadn’t given her a whitelighter because they didn’t think she deserved one. That recognition came quickly; Willow had voiced a worry that she wouldn’t count as a good witch, after what she’d done. Maybe the Elders had agreed.

Unaware of Paige’s thoughts, Tara nodded.

“I couldn’t see her,” Tara said, softly. “I heard things, small things. I don’t know how much is true, but… I wish I could speak with her.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Paige said. She managed to coax a smile from Tara.

“I know,” Tara said. She paused. “I- tell her I said hi, I guess.”

“Is that all?” Paige said, frowning. Tara shook her head.

“No, I-” a pause, “There was so much I wanted to say, I just- you can’t carry it all back down. Just- I don’t know what to leave out, and what to keep, I…”

Tara shifted on the spot, her whitelighter robes creasing. Paige couldn’t shake the impression that they didn’t quite suit her.

“I’ll do my best,” Paige said.

“Th-thank you,” Tara said. “I- Tell her I’m sorry about her shirt. A-and say, for what happened after, I forgive her. If it had been her, I don’t know what I’d have done… And, and there’s only one other thing I’ll ask. Please, promise me she’ll try to be happy, that she’ll try not to keep punishing herself. That she can move on, without sabotaging it for herself: I won’t mind, sh-she’s got a lifetime to fill. We can work the details out after, just- I want her to be happy, in any way.”

Silence. Paige nodded, slowly, trying to recall all of Tara’s words. She wanted to miss out as little as possible; she knew how important this would be for Willow, and she could guess how major it was for the blonde.

“A-and tell her to be strong,” Tara said, after a moment. “Like I know she is. Strong like an Amazon.”

* * *

 

Paige descended to Willow, a short time after. There was no sign of any other explanation for how her healing power could have been triggered, so she shrugged it off. Maybe she was just improving.

Certainly, it seemed more likely than the alternative. She felt affection for Willow, that she wouldn’t deny; she felt similar for all her charges. Maybe she felt an extra kind of kinship with the witch, a new bond of closeness, but it couldn’t be enough to qualify for the kind of love her power required.

Shaking off those thoughts, she landed in Willow’s room, the light of her orbs quickly waking up the witch. Paige winced; she kept forgetting to check what time it was before she orbed down from upstairs.

“Did I call you?” Willow said, blinking sleepily, “I know the frogs were bad, but I didn’t know I called you.”

For a moment, Paige blinked.

“I won’t ask,” she said, “Sorry, didn’t know the time. You didn’t call me: I had something to say, but it can wait. I won’t-”

Willow shook her head, “No,” she said, “I won’t be able to sleep now. Say away,” a smile.

Paige hesitated, unsure of where to begin. Things were always easier in her head; and besides, the mood didn’t feel right now. Willow seemed to expect a joke, from her expression.

“I met someone,” Paige said, “Upstairs, I mean. Whitelighter-place.”

Willow blinked. “You woke me up to talk about your love life?” she said, uncertain. Paige shook her head, quickly.

“No,” she said, “No, no. It was someone- They knew you. And, uh, you know I said good people could become whitelighters when they die? It was one of them.”

Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to say _it was Tara_. The name always seemed to mean too much, around Willow. Unsurprisingly, really.

Still, the redhead seemed to guess. Or at least, she had her suspicions, judging by how her expression clouded.

“She said she’s sorry about your shirt,” Paige said.

She didn’t know the full story: she hadn’t pressed Willow to share every detail. From Tara’s tone, however, she’d guessed that was important. From the look in Willow’s eyes, she found she was right. Too right, perhaps.

Paige hesitated, not sure she wanted to continue, if that was how Willow reacted. Well, if worst came to worst, she could summon the scythe with her magic.

Before that, however, Paige offered her hand, as a comfort. Willow took it: smiled, somehow.

Then Paige continued. She shared Tara’s message, almost word for word. As much as she could remember, at least, all important aspects passed on. In addition, she explained the rules the Elders made: so that Willow could move on, Tara couldn’t see her.

It was something that Paige paused after saying. Prue was the only other person like that, that she knew of: she couldn’t see her sisters because they were the Charmed Ones, they had much to do, that couldn’t be done if they didn’t move on.

“You have a destiny,” Paige said. “That’s what I think, at least. That’s when that rule’s applied: when someone needs to move on, to achieve something. It’s not an excuse, I just- I thought you should know.”

It was all she could think of. And, in truth, if Willow had just rewritten the spell that governed the Slayers and their succession, Paige could only guess at what would come to pass in her life.

Slowly, Paige continued, and finished recounting what Tara had asked her to say to Willow. All the while, she held the redhead’s hand, and watched her eyes.

She wasn’t sure if it was fear or compassion that had her look there. Wariness, in case those eyes should turn black, or trust and pity, knowing that these weren’t pleasant memories she was bringing up for Willow.

“She asked you to be strong,” Paige said, echoing Tara. “Like she knows you are. Strong like an Amazon.”

When she’d finished, there was silence. Willow’s grip may have briefly turned harsh, but there was no sign that she was overcome. There was only sadness and, maybe, acceptance.

After a moment, she spoke.

“Thank you,” Willow said. Paige smiled, relieved, and didn’t let go.

 


	4. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end. The Elders review the case of Willow, and Paige is staunchly behind her charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's the ending. I hope you've all enjoyed the story so far.

Paige sat upstairs, for once garbed in her whitelighter robe. This was a more formal meeting, she might as well dress like it.

The Elders gathered in a circle, atop the cloudy floor of their domain. Paige stood in the centre, alone; a little unsteady on her feet from nerves, but that was all.

Speaking was the Elder who’d assigned her to Willow. He addressed the other Elders more than her, explaining the matter at hand. Paige had been assigned to a phenomenally powerful witch, by all accounts, and one who’d been created by the hellmouth rather than bloodline.

He also shared knowledge Paige suspected the Elders possessed, though they hadn’t confirmed it. That when Willow had lost her girlfriend, Tara, she wielded dark magicks in a grief-fuelled attempt to end the world. Even now, the seed of corruption remained in her.

Apparently though, Willow first came to their attention before, in some affair involving a hell-god. Paige had only heard snippets of the story, but apparently Willow had been vengeful, and after had become possessive. Selfish. Paige winced to hear the details.

She had done good, however: she’d faced off against the First Evil, the first speck of malignance to taint the world, and played a role in the defeat of its latest plan. From that, they’d decided to grant her a whitelighter to fulfil the normal role of such a guardian and, in addition, watch for any sign that Willow was likely to fall back to evil.

“And now,” the Elder said, “Paige Matthews, your assessment, please.”

Right. Paige cleared her throat, eyes quickly glancing around the circle. A few Elders had their hoods up, a few had their heads and faces bare.

“Willow Rosenberg is a good witch,” Paige said. “A good person. In the time I’ve known her, she’s been kind, and caring, and she’s used her powers only for good. True, she’s made mistakes in the past. Big mistakes: at first she used her powers for personal gain, and when it resulted in tragedy, she was overcome. Since then, however, she has spent every hour, every minute searching for redemption.”

She paused: caught her breath. In that break, a hooded Elder spoke.

“Should we grant redemption to all those who seek it?” they said. “Some peoples’ crimes leave a permanent stain. Try as they might, evil cannot be washed away.”

“Oh, please,” a brunette, rather less formal, Elder said. “Don’t be so melodramatic. It doesn’t matter if someone can be redeemed, only that they try for it. Friend told me that.”

“Even so-” the hooded Elder tried to say.

“Oh, put a sock in it,” the brunette Elder shook her head, sighing.

At that exchange, the more distinguished, white-haired Elder interrupted.

“Harmon, Cordelia, please,” he said, warningly. They fell silent. “Paige?”

Paige paused, trying to gauge whether or not the two would speak again. Then, she continued.

“I don’t know about all that redemption stuff,” Paige said. “I know that no one’s perfect, though. And the more powerful someone is, the bigger their mistakes. That doesn’t make them evil, though. You sent me to her because she’d done something good, and I can say that as long as I’ve known her, she’s been good. I can’t say anything else.”

A pause. Paige looked around the circle, at each of the robed Elders. It was hard to suppress her nerves.

Then she decided she wasn’t going to pretend any more respect for the Elders than she genuinely had. Besides, they probably already know how she really felt.

“Actually,” Paige said, “One more thing. I promise, no matter what you decide, I’ll continue to serve as Willow’s whitelighter.”

There was a murmur at that. Still, they shared a few looks. Maybe she’d made an impression, though for better or worse, Paige couldn’t say.

The white-haired Elder spoke, then. “Thank you for your input, Paige. The council will inform you of our decision, when it is made.”

* * *

 

Willow knew most of what was going on: and as such, Paige decided to treat her. There were advantages to being a whitelighter after all, and being able to orb essentially anywhere was one of them.

Buffy had insisted they could survive without Willow for a few hours, and had even urged the redhead to relax.

As such, now Willow sat beside Paige atop the Golden Gate Bridge.

“So you live here, huh?” Willow said, looking from side to side, at the great view.

Somehow, she felt safe. Being accompanied by a woman able to heal and orb her anywhere, especially one sworn to protect her, had that effect.

“Not right here,” Paige said, chuckling, before squinting. She gestured across the river; “Our house is over there.”

Willow turned to where Paige gestured, peering out over the city.

“Narrows it down,” she said, and chuckled. “I’d show you where I lived, but it’s a crater now.”

A moment of silence. They looked out, still, over San Francisco. The red bridge stretched out, the sight impressive enough from the ground.

“So,” Willow said, “After a couple of minutes, “You can go anywhere?”

“By orb?” Paige said, “Pretty much, yeah. Harder to navigate in the Underworld, but otherwise…”

“Hopefully we won’t have to go there,” Willow said, and laughed. “Can tell you I don’t want to, at any rate. Wouldn’t mind trips elsewhere.”

“Why, Ms Rosenberg,” Paige adopted a faux-scandalized tone, “You wouldn’t be suggesting I use my whitelighter power, meant for the protection and guardianship of my charges, to sightsee?”

“Maybe,” Willow said.

Another chuckle; Paige took Willow’s hand, and squeezed.

“Sounds like a plan,” her normal voice, again. “Where’d you want to start?”

It was the strange thing about being given so many choices. Given all the options in the world, the mind always went for what was known. The comfortable, the less alien. Though there were countless sights Willow wanted to see, from Niagara Falls, to the pyramids, only places she’d been came to mind.

Though equally, she hadn’t been especially well-travelled. Most of her life had been spent in Sunnydale, and that was no more, after all.

“How about England?” Willow said.

“Narrow it down,” Paige said. “Big place. And do you mind if I ask why?”

“Was there earlier this year,” Willow said, “Coven there helped me control myself. Couple there were my age, or younger: less serious. They didn’t want me to waste the trip, took me sightseeing. Saw a few things I wouldn’t mind seeing again.”

“You can show me around,” Paige said. “Anywhere in particular?”

“Um, London,” Willow said. “Don’t know where exactly, immediately. Surprise me.”

She gave a hopeful smile, at which Paige laughed.

“Sure,” she said, “Give me a moment.”

Seconds later, and the two witches had become a shimmering orb of light, fading to nothing as they travelled away. The long journey took them a few seconds in transit, and a little while longer as Paige tried to gauge where best to land.

A few people looked up to see a ball of light briefly shine against the perpetually grey clouds of London. A blink later, however, and it had moved on. Those lucky few who managed to follow it however noticed it head in the direction of Big Ben.

Willow and Paige reformed at the top of the clock tower, just above the clock-face, and a little below the grand bell that gave the tower its name. Their legs kicked idly over the edge, their hands were joined, and they looked out over the city.

It was raining. From what Willow remembered of the English weather, that wasn’t a surprise. Muttering to herself, she cast a charm taught to her by the Devon coven: apparently it was one of the first things local witches learnt.

A thin film formed in the air around the two of them, a bubble in which the rain turned at an angle, splattering around in an uneven sphere, and leaving theme dry. The only problem was the damp stone on which they sat.

“Nice place,” Paige said, amused. Her expression sobered though, enjoying the view.

“Better weather than usual, too,” Willow said, tone such that Paige couldn’t tell whether or not she was serious. “I’ve got good memories here, that’s all.”

“You don’t need to make excuses,” Paige said. She glanced around. “Any favourite place?”

The tower stood beside a wide river: Willow gestured a little way down that river, toward a great white wheel that was taller even than Big Ben.

“London Eye,” she said. “Used to ride it when we took the train down here. Officially for calming purposes: which it was, definitely. I liked that. Most of all though, the view was great,” she smiled, “Plus we all got a pod to ourselves. The coven witches, and me.”

Paige glanced toward the wheel, and around. She could only imagine how much you could see from the top. Probably not the most spectacular city in the world, she had to admit to preferring her own San Francisco, but she could see why Willow had enjoyed her time in this country.

“Want to get on it?” Paige said. Willow shook her head: she gestured down towards the ground.

“You can see the queue from here,” she said. “Takes forever to get near.”

“We don’t need to queue,” Paige said, turning to Willow: a mischievous smile. “Magic, remember? Can orb right into a carriage. Elders give whitelighters memory dust, in case we accidentally reveal the existence of magic. Only meant to be used in serious situations, but I can spare a pinch for those who see us.”

She grinned, playfully. Willow turned away from the view, to face Paige. Whatever she was going to say faded along with the grin on her own face, as soon as she looked at her whitelighter.

Paige was going to ask what caused her expression to change, what made her happiness fade. She wasn’t certain though; the look in Willow’s eyes was no different. She was enjoying something, no question.

It was about that point Paige realized her thoughts had started babbling, after about a second on Willow staring at her. There was something oddly intense about that look.

And then Willow leant forward and kissed her.

For the first few seconds, Paige was still. Utterly still: she didn’t know how else to react. Well, she’d known intellectually what Willow’s sexuality was, after Tara. She’d obviously known Willow was single: she just hadn’t expected Willow to show any interest.

Her next thought was that the kiss wasn’t exactly unpleasant. Willow’s lips were soft, her scent sweet; earthy. The kiss was gentle too: not pushy. Comforting: and more than comforting. Paige felt a thrill she couldn’t describe, a lightness in her stomach.

And that was when she orbed, and Willow fell forward.

Paige came back into being behind Willow, now: and Willow lifted her front up, off the stone. She turned, quickly finding Paige, expression uncertain.

“Sorry,” she said, quickly, “I didn’t-”

“No,” Paige said, shaking her head, “Don’t be sorry, I- I do that when I’m surprised. Less often now, but, uh, that was still a surprise.”

“Oh,” Willow said, and breathed a sigh of relief. “Haven’t had that reaction before.”

Awkwardness gave way, briefly, to laughter. Then:  
“Um,” Willow said, “Was that, um, ok?”

At that, Paige hesitated, genuinely not sure what to say. On the one hand, that had been- well, good. On the other hand, it was probably quite unexpected. And she wasn’t sure what to make of the trend for Halliwells to end up in whitelighter/witch romances, though at least this time she was on the opposite side.

Her confusion evidently showed on her face, and Willow’s fell.

“Was I bad?” she said, quiet.

Paige shook her head, immediately.

“No, no,” she said, “That was good, just- confusing, I guess. No, not confusing, I’m just confused. So sort of confusing, but that’s not you, it’s-” she blinked, shook her head. Willow winced in sympathy, recognizing the indecision.

Paige was almost relieved when she heard a chiming in the skies: the call of the Elders. They wanted to see her.

“Um,” Paige said, soon realizing this wasn’t a great time. Still, there wasn’t a choice. “I need to go. Elders, they- they just called me. Can I drop you off anywhere?”

Willow shook her head; “I’ll wait here,” she said, gesturing at the view. “Just- um, hurry back?”

Paige nodded. “I promise,” she said, before dissolving to orbs of white.

* * *

 

Back in the clouds, Paige immediately started towards the place she’d spoken to the Elders, before. She made it a few steps before she realized she wasn’t in her robes: then shrugged. It probably didn’t matter, whitelighters who spent most of their time on Earth couldn’t be expected to change every time they were called up here. Especially when it was an urgent matter, like this one seemed to be.

There weren’t as many Elders waiting for her, this time. There was the brunette who’d spoken the last time Paige was here, the white-haired Elder who’d first approached her about Willow, and a couple of others, neither of which Paige could recognize.

“We have reached a decision,” the white-haired Elder said.

Paige braced herself.

And the Elder didn’t continue immediately. Apparently they had a flair for the dramatic; then again, they were people who wore robes, lived in the clouds, and turned into balls of light. It wasn’t unexpected.

It was, however, irritating. Paige quickly scanned the few Elders there, or at least those whose faces she could see. Unfortunately, they’d raised impassiveness to an art form.

“Given what you have said,” the Elder spoke, “And her past actions, we accept that Willow Rosenberg is eligible for a whitelighter: and, if you would accept it, we would appoint you on a permanent basis.”

“I’d accept it,” Paige said, barely waiting for him to finish his sentence. A nod: “And thank you, really.”

The Elder bowed his head, once.

“You will be assigned new charges in addition to Willow, when we are sure she will not return to darkness,” the Elder said. “I trust that will not be a problem?”

“No,” Paige shook her head, “Not at all. You know I’m happy to take on charges.”

“That was not the problem I foresaw,” the Elder said. “I understand the relationship between you and Willow has… changed, recently?”

Paige flushed, briefly, and hesitated. Of course he’d seen that, the Elders always did seem to see the wrong things. And it wasn’t a great thing for them to see either: she knew how they felt about relationships between whitelighters and humans.

Then again, she was only half-whitelighter, and they hadn’t complained about her previous relationships. Then again, she’d been working more as a witch than whitelighter during most of those.

She was about to speak up, to deny that there was any problem there, before she caught herself.

There was no purpose in rushing any statement. There was also every possibility it might be dishonest to deny; the kiss had hardly been unpleasant. Surprising, certainly, but it had been kind. And good. Then there was the healing; Paige knew perfectly well what triggered that ability.

Was it a ‘maybe’ then?

“It hasn’t,” Paige said, and paused. “Yet.”

“I have been authorized to inform you, you may exercise your own judgement on that matter,” the Elder said. “Some of us suspected. So long as you do not allow it to distract you from your duty… We have learnt to be more flexible.”  
Paige nodded, and found herself smiling.

* * *

 

 Paige found Willow still sitting atop Big Ben, still beneath a magical shield, keeping the drizzle off of her.

“Back,” she said, orbing beside the redhead. “Guess who’s still your whitelighter.”

Willow smiled as soon as Paige appeared, and smiled further at the news.

“Woo hoo,” she said, playful: “Properly?”

“Properly,” Paige nodded her head.

At that, the brief celebration only lasted a few more seconds. Then awkwardness took over, Willow’s at the swift avoidance of the last thing they’d discussed, and Paige’s at the sight of Willow’s falling expression.

“Um,” Paige said, uncertain now. “Earlier?”

Willow looked up; tilted her head. Querying. Paige hesitated: she didn’t really have much more of an answer than Willow.

From what she’d gathered, neither of them had been looking. Neither of them had exactly expected this much; and Paige definitely wouldn’t have been looking here.

“I’m sorry if it was-” Willow began, sensing Paige’s confusion.

“It was fine,” Paige said, quickly. She wouldn’t let Willow feel bad. “Good, even. Really good- uh, just unexpected.”

“If you don’t want to-” Willow began, “I don’t want to make things awkward,” a pause, “More awkward.” She shook her head, “Just say if you don’t-”

“I didn’t say that,” Paige said. She barely thought about her words.

“You mean…”

“I mean,” Paige said, only making up her mind completely as she spoke those words.

A moment of silence. Willow’s eyes briefly drifted out, to the side, before refocusing on Paige. She found a smile.

That time it was Paige who leant forward, for a kiss both were expecting. It went far more comfortably than the first, and Paige felt only butterflies, rather than orbing away.

When they broke the kiss, neither wanted to move away. They sat, faces almost touching, lips barely a centimetre away from each other.

“So,” Paige said. Her breath tickled Willow’s face. “What now?”

“You’re the guardian angel, you figure it out,” a chuckle, “Take me home.”

“Whose home?”

A shrug. “Yours?” she suggested. “I want to meet the sisters you talk about.”

A smile, and Paige reached forward with one hand: took Willow’s. There was a brief flare of light, and they were gone. The rain began to fall normally.


	5. New Experiences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow meets the Halliwells. And nothing's ever that easy, is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this ages ago, in response to how fun the crossover was, and a number of requests for a continuation. Took me this long to find time to make edits.  
> This second plot-line's fairly different to the first, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Halliwell Manor, San Francisco. It was rather idyllic, really. A quiet house, a well-tended garden. Not much made it stand out, Willow reflected. Even less made it seem like the home of some of the most powerful witches ever to have lived.

Still, she was assured that was the case.   It was a little nerve-wracking. The only other witches Willow had met were Amy, Tara, and the Devon coven. None had really ended well. Hopefully the First Evil wouldn’t rise again while she was meeting Paige’s sisters, though. Even she couldn’t be that unlucky.

Then again, with the stories with which Paige had regaled her, and the luck it sounded like the Halliwells possessed, it couldn’t be ruled out.

“Nervous?” Paige said.

“A little,” Willow said.

A chuckle, and Paige let her lips lightly brush Willow’s cheek.

“Don’t be,” she said, “My sisters are nice. Unless you’re a demon. Which I’m guessing you’re not.”

“Nope,” Willow said, chuckling slightly. Paige smiled.

“Um,” Paige said, “One thing though. Can you not mention, uh, us?”

“Are they-” Willow said, and hesitated. She didn’t exactly want to accuse her girlfriend’s sisters of being bigots, especially when they seemed so close.

“No,” Paige shook her head, “No, no. I just, I want them to get to know you first. I’m sure they’ll be accepting. That ok?”

Willow nodded. “Of course.”

A smile: then, hand in hand, witch and whitelighter approached the front door.

It was with some trepidation that Willow watched Paige open the door. She wouldn’t pretend to know a great deal about the Charmed Ones, living in Sunnydale meant practical magical knowledge trumped general magical knowledge, but she’d read up ever since she’d been assigned Paige as a whitelighter.

Meeting any people who were the subject of myths would always be nerve-wracking. Wanting to make a good impression because you were dating their sister only added to it.

“Hello?” Paige called.

A dark-haired woman stepped out of one of the rooms adjacent to the hall. She tilted her head.

“Using the front door are we?” the woman said. “Feeling alright, Paige?” a pause, “And who’s this?”

Paige stepped to the side: letting Willow enter. Willow waved, a little shyly.

“Um, Piper, this is Willow, witch,” Paige said, “Willow, Piper. Sister. Blows stuff up. Where’s Phoebe?”

“Upstairs,” ‘Piper’ said, “Saying goodbye to Coop. Elders have a task for him. So. Willow: should I know that name?”

“She’s my charge,” Paige said. “Remember, I mentioned the Elders reassigning me?”

“Ah, so this is her,” Piper said. She paused. “Since when did you bring your charges home?”

It wasn’t quite what Willow had expected. From the texts she’d managed to get her hands on, all those that outlined the Charmed Ones, she expected much more solemnness. She thought they’d be far more serious.

Maybe she should have guessed that wouldn’t be the case just from knowing Paige, but still. It was still a bit of a shock to see just how much like regular sisters these Charmed Ones were.

“She’s not a regular charge,” Paige said, after a moment’s hesitation. “Think I mentioned that too.”

“Oh, right. Your only charge now, something like that, wasn’t it?” Piper said, “That’s new. Guess you could probably marry her then.”

Willow inhaled to speak, before choking on that breath as Piper finished her sentence. Eyes momentarily wide again, shocked, she glanced at Paige, to see a similar instant of surprise. She covered it well.

Thankfully, Piper didn’t seem to notice: or if she did, she misinterpreted.

“I meant like Leo,” she said, quickly, “Elders were opposed because they thought I’d distract him from all the… I’ve had a long day, ok?” she paused, then shouted: “Phoebe! Paige is back.”

* * *

 

Beyond Piper’s unwitting faux pas, the rest of the introduction went fair well. Phoebe came down the stairs alone, getting the same introduction to Willow, and introducing herself in turn. The four of them then moved out of the hall, sitting down.

Piper introduced her husband, Leo, when he came in with drinks. Her former whitelighter, apparently: Willow suppressed a smile at that.

“So then, Willow,” Phoebe said, after a few minutes. “Who’re you, then? Tell us about yourself.”

“Phoebe,” Piper said, quietly scolding. Phoebe shrugged.

“What?” she said: “Sounds like she’s going to be spending a fair bit of time with Paige, or around here. Inquiring minds want to know.”

“I don’t mind,” Willow said. “Um, at least I don’t think I do.”         

It was almost refreshing. She didn’t have much opportunity to be completely open among new people. Her social circle had shrunk ever since having to move to Cleveland, and most of the people she could afford to mention she was a witch to, were Slayers she only really met on business and official matters.

A chance to relax around new people was a novel experience: even if ‘relax’ was hardly the right word.

“That’s the spirit,” a grin from Phoebe. “So, you’re a witch? What’s your power, anything cool?”

“Uh,” Willow said, “I don’t think it works like that. At least not for me.”

The two sisters frowned; Leo regarded her, thoughtfully. Suddenly self-conscious, Willow continued.

“I grew up in Sunnydale,” she said. She meant to continue, when Leo made an ‘ah’ of understanding.

“Hellmouth?” Leo said.

Willow nodded, relieved. At least she didn’t need to explain an entirely new concept to them.

“Not born one?” Leo said, and Willow nodded again.

He opened his mouth to continue, when Piper spoke:

“I have hands that make things go boom,” she said, “And I’ll use them if you don’t stop being cryptic.”

Willow found herself chuckling. Paige’s sisters were oddly likeable. Well, not oddly; she’d expected to get along with them, she just hadn’t expected to feel this comfortable, this quickly.

Inhaling, Willow rushed through a brief explanation on Sunnydale, and the hellmouth: both how it drew demons towards it, and caused all kinds of phenomenon. Among said phenomenon, making certain people witches.

“Sounds like you’re used to demons,” Piper said, and looked at Paige: “See if you can convince her to stick around the house. Could do with another now Billie’s off at college.”

Though she wasn’t completely sure Piper was joking, Willow chuckled.

“I’m an orb away,” Willow said.

“She’ll vanquish demons for us,” Piper said, “I like her.”

Piper took a gulp of her drink, before lying back, clearly rather tired.

By the sound of it, she was the only one of the sisters who had a power built for harming demons. Willow knew Paige’s powers, and Phoebe had idly mentioned premonition. On the other hand, Piper could apparently cause explosions.

By the sound of it, she must have taken care of a fair few demons today. Then again, that wasn’t anything special; there were always a lot of demons around.

“Done anything good?” Phoebe said. “Any big vanquishes?”

“Um, I guess,” Willow said. “Hell-god, helped stop an uber-vampire army, giant snake, and a weird cyborg-demon thing.”

She couldn’t help but smile at how casual a demon-killing conversation seemed in this house.

She did feel a slight pang at how Leo’s expression fell, but she hoped it was just surprise. Hellmouth-borne witches might not be rare, but they didn’t often end up with whitelighters; it was likely he was just surprised at what she could do.

That, or it was the fact he was a whitelighter: or former whitelighter, by the sound of it. Willow hoped he hadn’t heard of her; some of her old deeds could take some explaining. She didn’t want to dredge up those stories until she knew the Halliwells a bit more.

“Nice list,” Phoebe said. “Source of All Evil is probably our top vanquish.”

“No bragging,” Paige said, teasing, before looking at a frowning Willow: “What is it?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head, “Just thought I was dealing with that a month or so ago. Called itself the First Evil, think it was meant to be the Source.”

“Demons lie,” Piper said. She seemed a little uninterested: “One of them probably was. Maybe both.”

Willow chuckled again. It did make sense; all things considered, a lot of sufficiently old beings could claim to be the first of something. Or maybe the Source and First were somehow connected.

It would take too long to figure out and, all things considered, probably wasn’t too important.

Willow sipped at her drink, and smiled.

“Did you say you lived in Sunnydale?” Phoebe said, “How is it?”

“I used to,” Willow said. “It’s a bit crater-y now.”

“Yeah, that’s almost happened a few times here,” Piper said. “How’d it happen?”

“Everyone had gotten out before, so not many people got hurt,” Willow said. “Just a nest of uber-vampires underneath it. Got collapsed by a vampire with a soul and an ancient amulet,” Willow hesitated, “My life can be confusing, sometimes.”

“Angelus?” Leo said, immediately.

Willow blinked: then shook her head, a little surprised Leo knew the name. Then again, if he’d been a whitelighter like Paige was, he would have picked up a lot of general knowledge over however-long he’d been doing it.

“Spike,” Willow said, “Angel’s fine. I think.”

“Again with the crypticness,” Piper said, exasperated: she lifted her hands in what might have been a playfully threatening gesture.

As Leo rushed through the story of the first vampire ever to be given a soul, and how big a deal it had been ‘up there’, Willow looked sideways at Paige.

The Charmed One seemed perfectly happy to be here, even enjoying the conversation. Apparently the introduction was going better than she’d expected: Willow smiled at her, Paige smiled back.

Willow let herself relax: she exhaled, relieved. There weren’t very many places she could feel safe, any more. There were either (mildly suicidal) demons after her, enraged that she’d increased the number of Slayers, the generic vamps that were almost the background radiation of her life and, lately, her own darker impulses flaring up whenever she used magic.

Here though, Paige kept her grounded, and the near-legendary status of the Charmed Ones would keep most demons away. And if any did come, she probably wouldn’t even need to get up.

“Someone’s lead an interesting life,” Phoebe said, and looked at Paige: “Hope you’re not feeling too intimidated.”

“I’m not the only one who’s done, uh, big stuff,” Willow said: and Phoebe laughed to herself, nodding.

“She has a point,” Paige said: “Besides, she’s a good charge. Probably less of a pain than we were.”

A moment of silence. Willow finished her glass, and put it down on the table. A little while later, Piper did the same.

“Nice to meet you, anyway,” she said. “By the sounds of it, you’ll be welcome back any time.”

“Thanks,” Willow said.

“And you could be helpful,” Leo said, finishing his drink also. “If you live by a hell-mouth, you must have run into all kinds of new demons. We could-”

“Leo,” Piper said, mildly irate, “Work later. Rest now.”

“But-”

“I don’t mind,” Willow said. “If there’s- I’m not the librarian of our group, but if I can help…”

Piper took that opportunity to explain their Book of Shadows; rather different to the usual Wiccan kind Willow was familiar with, but nonetheless she grasped the idea quickly.

Enunciating its name, Paige orbed a rather battered looking tome into her arms, apparently just as a visual aid. Willow’s eyes widened, undeniably impressed. She could see why Giles had wanted to meet the Halliwells.

It was with some hesitation that Willow took it, when Paige offered the Book. She still remembered Paige mentioning that the Charmed Ones had a book that could only be held by good witches. despite the insistence of Paige and, apparently, the Elders, Willow found herself sometimes struggling to apply that label to herself.

It was a small comfort when she was able to hold the Book, unaffected.

“Anything you can add to our knowledge would be great, think we’ve dealt with most of the things in there,” Phoebe said. “Any time you want to. Don’t need to, now.”

Willow shrugged, idly opening it, peering at the store of knowledge within. She didn’t linger on any page too long, just trying to gauge how much it held, and how it worked.

There were a few unfamiliar faces in there, as well as a lot of painfully familiar ones. The kind of vampire she was used to deal with was noticeably absent, but beyond that, a lot of the demons she’d encountered were there.

“Taken care of a few of these,” Willow said, and snorted when she turned the page.

“What is it?” Paige said. Willow shrugged.

“Used to date that one. Kinda,” she said, tipping the book to show a depiction of the demon Moloch: both a stylized rendering of his true demonic form, and the book in which the demon had once been imprisoned.

“And she dates demons too,” Piper said, “Almost like she’s one of the family.”

Willow wasn’t entirely sure when looking at old demons started constituting nostalgia, but she found herself enjoying her brief skim-read of the Halliwell Book of Shadows. Moving on from Moloch, she passed a few other, less memorable, faces she’d seen before: and, a lot of the time, had vanquished.

She hastily moved past a page depicting the grinning face of the Gnarl demon, not wanting to linger on those memories. Paige noted the motion, but didn’t ask.

Willow finally finished skimming through the book. She closed it, and looked up, meaning to compliment them on it. Instead, she jumped, wincing as she felt something dig into her head: and pull back, like a hair was being plucked.

She jumped up to her feet, turning. No-one’s hands were near her: she did, however, glimpse a blue light from behind the sofa. Instantly on guard, Willow leant forward, to peer down behind it.

“What is it?” Paige said, making the same motion, just a few seconds after. She, however, was unable to see nothing save the last flicker of the blue light, as it faded.

“Demon?” Piper said. She sounded rather bored.

“Think so,” Willow said, frowning. “Vanished quickly. Um, do you want me to look through your Book?”

“You don’t have to,” Phoebe said. “Been working on my power, could probably get a premonition off you. You can rest, we deal with demons all the time.”

“I do too,” Willow said: but nodded nonetheless.

“I know,” Phoebe said, “Not in San Francisco though, I’m guessing.”

At that, Willow chuckled, before blinking as Phoebe took her hand. Paige smiled supportively, and Phoebe closed her eyes.

It was only a few seconds later that Phoebe inhaled suddenly, and stepped back, briefly unsteady on her feet. She opened her eyes, and frowned: regarded Willow strangely. Instinctively, Willow tensed, unsure of what the Halliwell would have seen.

“Definitely a demon,” Phoebe said, slowly. “I recognize it.”

“One we’ve seen before?” Piper said.

“One we’ve vanquished before,” Phoebe said. “Looked like Abraxas.”

A moment of silence. Willow didn’t speak, not sure what she could add: Paige just looked between her sisters.

“Who’s Abraxas?” she said.

 


	6. Another Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the return of an old foe, the Halliwells take Willow under their wing.

They were all in the attic, the Book of Shadows open on its stand, to the page that described the demon Abraxas. Meanwhile, Piper and Phoebe were recounting the tale of how they, along with Prue, had faced the demon Abraxas years before. And how, for that matter, they’d been fairly sure that they’d vanquished it for coming on eight years now.

Willow stood by the Book, half-reading, half-listening.

Abraxas: the being who demonized a witch’s magic. For the Charmed Ones, that constituted stealing their Book of Shadows, and reading it backwards to undo each spell they’d cast: ending with the spell that had given them their powers.

If Abraxas had read that, they would now be powerless. Thankfully, they’d stopped him before he could. Or so they’d thought.

“Want me to check upstairs?” Paige said. “The Elders might know a bit about whatever’s happening.”

“Might be best,” Leo said.

“You’ll be ok?” Paige said, passing behind Willow. The redhead glanced back, and nodded.

“I can handle a demon,” a smile; met with a chuckle.

Willow knew, technically, she’d faced worse. There was something more unsettling, somehow, about this Abraxas though. Something that was unnerving her, though she couldn’t yet say what.

Paige orbed away, and Piper and Phoebe finished off their story. They’d used the Power of Three to open a portal to the astral plane, in which Abraxas dwelt, and vanquished him there. It had taken all three of them.

“Do you have a Book of Shadows?” Piper said, when she was done.

Willow shook her head, “Not really,” she said, “Just a lot of general magic books. Nothing tied to my power.”

A moment of silence: the two sisters moved around to face the book. They only had one experience with Abraxas to draw on, and it didn’t really seem to compare.

“Not every witch has a Book of Shadows,” Piper murmured, “He still corrupts them, so… He needs something tied to their magic. A charm, an essence…”

Willow’s hand instinctively went up to her head; rested in her hair.

“What is it?” Phoebe said, suddenly keen.

“I think he took some of my hair,” Willow said. “Downstairs, it felt like it.”

“You have magical hair?” Piper tilted her head.

Willow hesitated. Not really, she had to say, though she doubted the demon was after it for a scrapbook.

“It’s not too absurd,” Leo said. “She’s a different kind of witch than you. You draw upon your family line, she has it inside of her.”

“So she does have magical hair,” Piper rolled her eyes. “Great.”

Willow found herself chuckling at the phrasing. Still, it was an explanation. Abraxas had taken her hair as a conduit to her magic: her hellmouth-borne magic. From that, he could do the same as he did to the Halliwells.

Well, not precisely the same. She had no book to read backwards, and so no spells to undo. At least, hopefully not: she didn’t want Slayers to run out of juice because of her.

“What does, uh,” Willow said, glancing at the page, “’Demonize’ mean? Doesn’t sound fun.”

“A lot of things,” Phoebe said. “For us, he cancelled out our magic. Not sure what would have happened after. For you, your different magic…” she shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Willow closed her eyes: opened her senses. It was a knack she’d picked up after the battle of the hell-mouth. She supposed it was just an extension of how she could sense her own magic: when she tried, she could feel the Slayers.

It wasn’t a particularly useful skill, but she found it comforted her, just being so fundamentally aware of so many people out there. Now, especially, it was a comfort. If she could sense them, it didn’t seem likely this Abraxas was trying to undo her magic.

Willow found herself staring at the Book of Shadows, rereading the same text over and over, as if a second and third and fourth attempt would unearth more information. Nothing was forthcoming.

Part of her knew she didn’t have much reason to be worried. It had been a long, long time since a lone demon would have been a problem for her. That didn’t stop her feeling uneasy: she put it down to nerves.

“I’ll head to Magic School,” Leo said, breaking the silence. “I’m sure there are more texts there. Might be able to find something else out.”

Piper escorted him away. Willow was, still, rather fixated on the Book of Shadows.

Abraxas. A demon whose raison d’etre was to darken a witch’s magic, and destroy their ability to be a force for good.

Beyond that, the Book only outlined the last time the Charmed Ones had encountered it, and gave a rhyming couplet (written by a much older hand) commanding the demon’s death. A vanquishing spell, Willow guessed: she’d read about them. Her particular branch of magic didn’t have much use for them.

In a way, it was dizzying. She was without a doubt a rather powerful witch. Maybe almost equal with the Power of Three: she didn’t really want to test that theory. Even with all of that, however, there were whole swathes of magic she barely understood.

After a minute or so, something Willow’s ears had heard finally reached her brain, and she blinked, and looked up at Phoebe.

“Magic School?” she said. “Did I hear that?”

“You’ve heard of it?”

“Only Hogwarts,” Willow found herself grinning: even when Phoebe laughed, and shook her head.

“Not quite the same,” Phoebe said. “It is a nice place though, when it’s not overrun by demons.”

Most places were; Willow chuckled again.

Her laughter dried up fairly soon, though, when her eyes caught the illustration of Abraxas in the Book of Shadows. It was hard to be whimsical when there was a demon doing goddess-knows-what to her magic.

Even if she’d just met a couple of people going to a Magic School. That name managed to, briefly, elicit a smile.

She was dragged out of her thoughts bye a gentle chiming, and a few orbs of light descending into the attic. Paige reformed, looking around. She frowned at the lack of Piper but shrugged as she saw how unconcerned Phoebe was.

“Hey,” a smile at Willow. Then Paige turned, to Phoebe: “Found out that Abraxas could well be still around, by the way. Elders had their worries, but he hasn’t had any cause to surface before now, they weren’t sure.”

“Any word on how?” Phoebe said.

Despite the urgency in her tone, Paige faltered: her face fell. Phoebe didn’t press the issue, waiting a few seconds.

“That’s not really good news,” Paige said.

“Having a demon around rarely is,” Phoebe said.

“It’s to do with what he does,” Paige said. “He darkens a witch’s magic. Demonizes it: when you turned your magic on him, one of two things happened. One, you didn’t use your full force: he’d already weakened it, temporarily, by some amount. That’s what they’re hoping.”

“Which I take it means there’s a worse possibility that, knowing our luck, is what’s actually happening?”

“Sounds like it,” Paige nodded. “It’s also possible Abraxas takes in some element of the magic he taints. If so, that magic would become unable to harm him. That set-up’s much more… well, much less good. It would make Abraxas immune to the Power of Three.”

Even Phoebe couldn’t come up with some flippant response to that. Her expression became far more serious.

Willow couldn’t help but notice that: then again, she didn’t blame them. The sisters reminded her of Buffy, somewhat: prophesized, chosen people with some extra quirk to set them apart. They faced all manner of demons and creatures, on an almost daily basis: and they managed to pull through.

It was because of their magic. Once that use was made pointless, they fell from their normal, light-hearted worldview.

Buffy had been able to pun when faced with so many creatures. Demons, vampires, ageless embodiments of ultimate evil… When Willow looked back, though, the only story she recalled Buffy showing genuine fear as she recounted, had been a regular vampire. Years ago, when she’d temporarily lost her power as the Slayer.

No matter what they thought of their advantages, when they were taken away, it was a struggle. Willow knew that herself: doing without magic had been once unthinkable to her.

“Good thing I’m here, then,” Willow did her best to give her goofiest grin.

It might not have been much, but it made Paige chuckle: and give a smile that gave Willow butterflies.

“Always is,” Paige said.

Phoebe glanced between the two of them, briefly. She frowned: Willow felt her cheeks flushing at that look, and mentally chastised her face for going red. Paige wasn’t comfortable being out yet, that Willow could sympathize with, so she didn’t want to give anything away.

Thankfully, Phoebe didn’t say anything. Her frown slowly faded, and she shrugged.

“Ok then,” Phoebe said. She glanced at Willow, but that time her expression was much more business-like than curious. “You sure you want to help?” She looked at Paige: “And are you sure she can? If Abraxas is immune to the powers of whoever he’s targeting…”

“Hell-mouth stuff,” Paige said. “It’s a pain to understand. Doesn’t sound like the Elders really do, for that matter, but that kind of magic’s much more tied to what the witch wants. It’s a different kind of magic: if she wants to hurt Abraxas, she probably can. Probably,” Paige shrugged, “That or we’re pretty much screwed.”

“And I’m happy to help,” Willow said, answering Phoebe’s other question. “Always am. Well, almost always. Unless you’re evil. Pretty sure you’re not though: Paige said so, and I trust Paige, so… I’m going to shut up now.”

Phoebe paused again: glanced between the two of them, and just chuckled.

Mentally, Willow recounted the offensive spells she could use, quickly sorting them. Powerful, less powerful: ones she was willing to use, ones that were too dark to risk.

There were a good half dozen she could afford to try on Abraxas. Maybe more, but not much would survive that barrage.

She was drawn out of her thoughts by footsteps outside the attic: a clattering coming up the stairs. The two Halliwells in the attic with her turned to face the door, and waited.

After a couple of seconds, Piper and Leo entered: both seemed a little out of breath. They calmed almost as soon as they looked around the attic, though.

“Someone’s in a rush,” Phoebe said.

“Just had to be sure,” Piper said; she was audibly out of breath. “Found a little on hell-mouth witches in Magic School. No record of Abraxas going after one before, but…”

“And it’s not good?” Willow said, instinctively tensing.

There was no other reason for Piper and Leo to rush back. Willow briefly opened her senses: felt the countless Slayers in the city. At least they were still around.

The comfort of the sensation, too, couldn’t be overlooked. Willow steadied her breathing in seconds, before meeting Piper’s eyes. She wouldn’t deny feeling uneasy: she’d been uneasy more or less since hearing who Abraxas was.

“This is just guesswork,” Leo said. “Bear that in mind: this is all just speculation.”

“You won’t lose your magic,” Piper said. She sounded far more confident than Leo, if less happy about it. “Your magic is part of you. That’s how it works for your kind of witch: which means that if your magic gets demonized, it won’t be the only thing.”

She was avoiding the topic. Willow hesitated, mentally reciting what Piper had said, trying to interpret. Then she recounted the same again, as if hoping Piper’s words would have changed in those few seconds.

“You mean,” Willow said, “I will.”

If her magic was darkened, then she would be as well. Again.

Piper nodded, wordless. That was all it took for the fear in Willow to overflow. It had been a while since she was last scared: only one thing had ever roused that particular emotion, and it was the threat of the evil inside her.

Where once she’d felt able to crack a joke about Abraxas, and act whimsical, now all she could think of was escaping. Quickly, Willow shut the Book of Shadows.

Was it her imagination, or did it resist her touch just slightly? Was Abraxas’ curse already taking effect?

“I’ll go,” Willow said, immediately.

She was already halfway to the door before anyone spoke. It was Paige, reacting before any of the sisters.

“You can stay,” Paige said. “We’ll stop Abraxas, don’t worry.”

“I know you will,” Willow said. “If you need me, you can- You said you’d always be able to find me. I just- I can’t be here, if he succeeds. I can’t be anywhere near you.”

“You don’t need to worry about us,” Phoebe said. “We’ve dealt with evil before.”

“Not like me,” Willow said.

It sounded like she was boasting, she reflected. Still, she wasn’t. She really wasn’t. She hated the fact she was capable of such things: but ignoring it didn’t make it any less the case. She was a danger.

“How would you know?” Phoebe said. “Everything always seems worse before it happens. It’s not like you’ve been e-”

Paige met her sister’s eyes: shook her head, almost imperceptibly. Even not knowing the full story, Phoebe fell silent.

“She’s right,” Leo said. “Here would be the safest place for you, even if things go badly. The Charmed Ones won’t let you hurt anyone.”

“It’s them I’m worried about,” Willow said. She tried not to turn her gaze to Paige. “Just- just trust me, ok? You won’t want me around.”

Willow slipped out the attic door, quickly. She was heading down the stairs when a haze of lights descended in front of her, and Paige orbed into view, blocking her exit.

“We do,” Paige said. Softer. “We will. I trust you: you won’t hurt us.”

“I will,” Willow said. “I did- I always do. When I’m like that, I-” Willow shook her head. “I don’t like talking about it. Last time, I nearly killed Buffy. And Giles. I would’ve, I just- More than anyone, I don’t want to hurt you. Your sisters.”

“Then you won’t,” Paige said. Simply.

A moment of silence. Willow was torn between wishing Paige could feel her fear, and relenting: agreeing, and trusting in the power of the Charmed Ones. At least then it would be out of her hands.

It just felt too much like giving up. She wanted to do something.

“Do you think you could shut the attic door from here?” Paige said, much more quietly. A playful smile.

“Probably,” Willow said. She hesitated: “Why?”

“Because I really want to kiss you and I’d rather they not walk in on that just yet,” Paige said.

Willow found herself giggling: and Paige was staring, unable to believe Willow would be capable of any darkness that could inspire such fear.

Quickly, Willow extended one hand, fingers outstretched, towards the attic door, holding it shut with magical might. A second later, and Paige’s lips were on hers. Tender, comforting: a wordless promise.

About ten seconds into the kiss, a sudden feeling hit Paige like a thunderbolt. Or rather, a lack of feeling: her awareness of Willow faltered, and flickered away completely.

Which meant Willow wasn’t her charge: something that happened only when the Elders rescinded the duty. And as they said they wouldn’t, they-

Willow broke off the kiss, stepping back. Her eyes, like the shade that was rapidly taking over her hair from root to tip, were a deep, unending black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were a lot of ideas I had for continuing this story, the only one that panned out was to introduce Paige to the other sides of Willow. As such, the following chapters will be different in theme to the initial part of the story.   
> I hope you continue to enjoy!


	7. History Repeats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A resurgence of Willow's dark side, a demon on the loose... Things are going well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the last cliffhanger.   
> Now things really get going...

It was Willow, and it wasn’t Willow. The similarities were perhaps the worst part. Every part of her face was, strictly speaking, the same: the same bone structure, same lips, same eye-shape. But then there was the void that had overtaken those eyes, the darkness that had overcome her lovely red hair, and the sneer she wore that was so very not-Willow.

She seemed as surprised as Paige.

“Willow,” Paige said.

“Paige,” the darkened Willow spoke, echoing her inflection.

There was a mocking chime to her voice. Something else that made Paige wince, at how little it belonged to Willow.

Still, it was hard not to cling to those similarities. Though Paige could no longer feel Willow as her charge, meaning Willow was no longer a good witch, she wouldn’t believe Abraxas had corrupted Willow. She couldn’t.

“Are- are you ok?” Paige said. Breathless.

“More than ok,” Willow said: she gave a smile that lit up her face.

Any hope Paige harboured was quickly doused at that expression. That relish. Abraxas had worked faster than they’d thought.

“Will you stay?” Paige said. She tried not to step back.

“Why?” Willow said. She tilted her head: playful in a way that Paige wished didn’t remind her of the old Willow.

“To help,” Paige said. “Just give us a little time, that’s all-”

“I don’t need help,” Willow said. “Not any more, at least. Think I’m doing better.”

Paige backed away, as subtly as she could. It felt wrong to be so wary around Willow: but she’d heard stories, from the redhead’s own mouth. She knew enough to tell that she shouldn’t feel as close to this Willow, as she was to the one she knew.

Yet it was never easy to so simply shake feelings off.

“Please stay,” Paige said. It wasn’t much: it was all she could manage.

A smile on Willow’s face: she raised a hand, dark veins winding a path under her pale, pale skin.

“I’d really rather not,” she spoke, tone measured.

There was a flicker of magic in the air: a suggestion of powerful, only barely noticeable. Then something in Willow’s expression changed, and she lowered her hand: smirked.

She waved goodbye, a bizarrely mischievous gesture, before wind picked up. Paige covered her eyes with her forearm, protecting them from the momentary gust: and when she lowered her arm, the hallway before her was empty.

Willow was evil, and gone. Great.

“Uh, guys,” Paige raised her voice, shouting, her eyes fixed on the same empty spot. “We might have a problem.”

* * *

 

In the attic, Paige rushed a recounting of the story to Piper, Phoebe, and Leo: leaving out the kiss that had happened immediately before.

When she’d done, Piper wore an expression of worry. She hadn’t heard a great deal about Willow, but she’d heard enough. For her part, Phoebe had one hand on the Book’s stand: though she hadn’t regained her empathy powers yet (thankfully), she seemed to sense Paige’s anguish for more keenly.

Still, Paige thought she’d done a good job at just how much this hurt. She wouldn’t have been able to so much as stand, if she’d let it overwhelm her.

“Right then,” Piper said. She clasped her hands together: “Sounds like we need to start planning. Up for this Paige?”

No. “Yeah,” Paige said. “So we have to find Abraxas.”

“Willow,” Piper said, “She’s our priority. Whatever Abraxas is doing doesn’t matter, now: he’s finished what he was doing. Willow’s the danger.”

“But stop Abraxas, and she’ll be back to being good,” Paige said.

Piper shook her head: “Things he does, don’t get undone when he’s vanquished.”

Piper said it so casually it took a few seconds to register in Paige’s said. She couldn’t mean that: she just couldn’t.

“What?” Paige said.

It had been a fair few seconds: some for Paige to comprehend what Piper had said, some more to try and stop her voice shaking. She’d barely succeeded.

Willow couldn’t be gone: not so quickly, and not so soon. They’d faced Abraxas before: some of them had gone evil before, for that matter. There were always ways out, always escapes.

“This kind of turn to evil,” Leo said, “It’s a more fundamental corruption than most. The only way out is free will: she has to choose good. That next to never happens, especially not if they’ve been evil before,” he paused, “When I was a whitelighter, there were a few mentions of a Willow up there. A powerful witch. A powerful, evil witch.”

Piper glanced at her husband, briefly baffled, before noting how both Phoebe and Paige winced. A sigh, and she threw her hands into the air, exasperated.

“Of course,” Piper said. “Couldn’t get the regular charge could we? Had to get the evil one.”

“She’s not evil,” Paige said, by instinct.

“You’re the one who said she was,” Piper said.

“Ok,” a wince. “She is, now. I think. She wasn’t before: she was good, very good. This is Abraxas, it isn’t her.”

“It kind of is,” Leo said.

Paige shot him a disbelieving look: he raised his hands, apologetically.

“That’s how he works,” Leo said. “With your sisters, he made it as though spells they’d done never were. With Willow, he’s made it so any choice she made in the direction of good never was. Which is why it can’t be undone: choice wins out.”

“Get her to choose good again,” Paige said. “It’ll happen, I know her.”

“Not that easy,” Leo said. “It’s not the Willow you know,” his face fell: “I’m sorry, Paige.”

“Which means we’ve got a demon probably immune to our powers, and a super evil witch to deal with,” Piper said. “Swear our lives were meant to be calming down.”

“Do they ever?” Phoebe said. She stepped forward: “What’s the plan, then?”

The discussion had gone well, Paige reflected. Once she’d started talking, she’d been distracted: more argumentative than she’d meant to be, but she hadn’t dwelt.

Now, though, when the only thing to do was wait endless seconds for Piper to speak, she found her mind rewinding: looking back. An unnatural smirk on pale not-Willow’s face: dark her, darker eyes. More than anything, those eyes reminded her of the Source. She didn’t know what to make of that.

The Source had been vanquished, too many times to count. It was gone: but apparently its eyes weren’t intrinsic to it. Rather, they were just a sign of the concentration of evil it possessed. To know Willow was even capable of holding a comparable amount…

It made Paige shudder.

“We need someone else to deal with Abraxas,” Piper said. “We can’t risk a confrontation if he is immune to the Power of Three. Probably Billie. That’s no use unless we can find him though: so our priority is Willow. Hopefully that’ll lure him out: even if it doesn’t, it sounds like she could be dangerous.”

She wasn’t. Paige wanted to say that: but stopped herself. If she started, she didn’t think she’d be able to stop.

“Can you still find her?” Piper said, to Paige. Paige shook her head: “Then we’ll scry. And when we find her…”

Piper stopped there: it was vaguely gratifying, Paige reflected, to know she wasn’t the only Halliwell having trouble with treating Willow like a pure force of evil now.

“There has to be something,” Phoebe said. “A potion, a spell we can write. To stun, at least.”

“I’m not going to hurt her,” Paige said.

Another silence. She couldn’t quite read her sisters’ faces: they might have been approving, affected; or they might not have been.

It was Willow who spoke.

“Every whitelighter loses a charge at some point,” Leo said. “It’s never easy, but it’s something you’ll need to be able to deal with.”

“I haven’t lost her,” Paige said.

“I’m sorry,” Leo said, simply. “The chances of anything being able to make Willow make the right choice are just-”

“And if it was Piper?” Paige said: raised her voice. “It could be a hundred times more unlikely, I know you wouldn’t rest until you’d tried it, and more.”

A tiny part of Paige’s mind just went ‘screw it’.

“I love her,” Paige said. “And I’m not going to stand by while you discuss trying to hurt her.”

A brief silence: it seemed more to be from surprise than any unhappiness. There were no doubt better situations to come out in, but Paige couldn’t stand to wait a second more.

Still, Leo nodded, and Piper seemed pensive. It felt like she’d made her case.

“I’m with Paige,” Phoebe spoke up. “We’re not going to vanquish Willow. No matter what.”

“Thank you,” Paige said: smiled.

Another pause, and Phoebe moved to stand closer to Paige. She took her hand, as much a gesture of comfort as solidarity.

“We might have to,” Piper said, softly. At the looks she got: “What? Someone had to say it: if she hurts any innocents, and we could’ve stopped that…”

“Then we’ll just have to bring her back before that happens,” Paige said.

“And if we can’t?”

“We will,” Paige said, with a confidence she didn’t feel.

Silence: Piper turned her head toward Phoebe.

“Can I ask why you’re siding with her so eagerly?” Piper said. Her voice was far from angry: merely curious.

“Cole,” Phoebe said.

“Really?” Piper blinked: “He turned evil, we vanquished him. Kinda seems like it makes the opposite case.”

“We vanquished him,” Phoebe echoed: “I know that, I know it was necessary, and I accept that. And I’ve regretted it, every day since. Every day, I’ve wished it wasn’t, and wished we could bring back the old him. If I can stop a sister going through that, I will.”

Paige squeezed Phoebe’s hand, finding herself offering support now. She gave a smile she hoped didn’t feel too fake.

Piper shook her head with the same, playful despairing sigh she often gave when pretending disappointment in her younger sisters. Still, she stepped closer.

“Why not?” she said. “I’m with you. Anyone got any ideas?”

For a few seconds, Paige’s mood plummeted. There were none: nothing she could offer, nothing to even vaguely justify her hope. Then:

“Buffy,” Paige said, before the idea had even fully formed in her mind. “Willow- if this has happened before, then it was stopped before. Buffy, she’s Willow’s friend. I can bring her here: she’ll know what we can do.”

Piper shrugged. “Best we’ve got,” she said, “Go ahead.”

* * *

 

It took a little time for Paige to find Buffy. Thankfully Paige had, through Willow, been introduced to the Slayers that Buffy worked with, meaning they were happy to help. After a few minutes, Paige found Buffy engaged in a rather acrobatic fight with a demon.

Almost as soon as she spotted Paige, Buffy brought a swift end to the match: and at the worry on Paige’s face, neglected even to pun.

Paige rushed an explanation, before offering her arm. When they orbed back to Halliwell Manor, Phoebe was alone in the attic. She was already scrying for Willow, slowly spinning a crystal over the map.

After a few seconds, the crystal fell onto a small park. Barely acknowledging that it had done so, Phoebe lifted the crystal again, and began spinning once more. This time, it fell almost the other side of the map.

“No luck?” Paige said: Phoebe shook her head.

“She’s moving quickly,” Phoebe said. “Waiting for her to settle down.” Phoebe looked up from the map, and grinned as she saw Buffy: “Hi there! You must be the Slayer. I’m Phoebe.”

“Buffy,” she frowned at the process of scrying, but didn’t comment. “I’m no witchy expert, but I’m fairly sure we’re missing one.”

As if to respond to her words, there was a muffled bang from downstairs. Buffy blinked.

“That’s Piper,” Phoebe said: chuckled. “She’s whipping up a few potions in case we run into Abraxas. Will hopefully vanquish him, but should at least be a delay. You’re meant to be handy at stopping demons though, right?”

“So I’ve heard,” Buffy said. “Won’t pretend I’ve done a great deal with potions. Stake usually does the trick. Occasionally sword. Or rocket launcher.”

“Piper’s blown up a few too,” Phoebe said. “She does use magic though. No rocket launchers.”

“It was just one time,” Buffy said.

Phoebe briefly shook her head, dismissing the impulse to ask after more stories. Certainly sounded like the people of Sunnydale lead interesting lives.

“Anyway,” she said, “Willow. Any ideas?”

Buffy’s playful smile faded from her face. Far more business-like, she stepped forward, craning her neck to look at Phoebe’s map.

“I’m not sure,” Buffy said. “Last time she was… like this, it was after Tara. Someone killed her, and he was part of a group of three people. She went after them.”

“So we need to guard three people?” Phoebe said.

Another bang from downstairs, and a shout from Piper that might have been frustrated or triumphant.

“Just one,” Buffy said. “Others aren’t around.”

“Did she-” Phoebe looked sharply at Paige: Buffy shook her head.

“Only the one that pulled the trigger,” Buffy said. “The other wasn’t her fault. Only Andrew’s left,” Buffy paused: “Willow’s dangerous. I don’t like saying how much. Just don’t judge her for it, k? She’s made bad decisions, everyone has, but this- When she’s overcome, it’s not her fault.”

“I know,” Phoebe said, softer.

A brief quiet broken by the clink of the crystal falling on yet another part of the map.

“She’s still in San Francisco,” Phoebe said.

“So’s Andrew,” Buffy said, “He said he’d come here after Sunnydale.”

Phoebe jumped: “Right then,” she said, “Better head to him, if he needs protecting,” a chuckle; “Saving innocents, that’s something we’re good at.”

“Oh, Andrew’s hardly innocent,” Buffy said. “He called a couple of days ago, think he moved to… there,” she tapped her finger on a street on the map.

“Don’t think Willow’s been there yet,” Phoebe said, spinning the crystal again. It landed somewhere new again. “Well then. Piper!”

A muffled shout from downstairs and, a few seconds later, a clattering sound. Piper reached the attic with three small baskets, each full of glass vials.

As Phoebe hurried through an explanation of what they hoped to do, Paige reached out with her senses again. It felt somehow wrong to have no charges, after living with those voices in the back of her head for so long. It felt worse to do without Willow. Her voice had always been a comfort.

She’d get it back. That she promised herself.

“Right,” Piper said, when Phoebe was done. “I made these. This one’s for Abraxas: our strongest anti-demon stuff. These are for Willow: middle hopefully stops offensive spells. Purely defensive. Last one’s stunners: strong, but not strong-strong,” she hesitated. “If we have to.”

“We’re not going to,” Paige said.

At that, Buffy smiled. Though Paige felt as though her sisters hoped as she did, Buffy’s support seemed somehow more meaningful.

It was with the first flickers of real hope that Paige reached out, focusing on the neighbourhood Buffy had pointed out, and orbed the four of them there. Leo watched them depart, keeping out of the way now he was human.

They orbed into a rather spacious, neat room. Almost immediately, everyone was on guard: only Paige and Buffy had any experience with the darker Willow, and only Buffy knew precisely what she was capable of, but a sense of threat seemed to pervade everything.

The first thing Phoebe did was lay the map of San Francisco down on the nearest table, quickly scrying. The crystal came down far from the street they were on: Willow still seemed to be travelling at random.

“No idea what she’s doing,” Phoebe murmured.

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Buffy said.

“Huh?”

“Same as last time,” Buffy said, “She didn’t have any plan beyond ‘make them pay’. Willow knows where Andrew lives: and she definitely hasn’t been here.”

“Even she might not know what she’s after,” Paige said, and felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for the not-Willow.

Their speculation was interrupted when a short, blonde-haired man walked into the room, and promptly tripped at the sight of Buffy.

“Uh, hello,” he said. “Um. Who, what, how, why, huh?”

He made his way through the stuttered phrase, making each word somehow sound like a question. Buffy exhaled, momentarily collecting her thoughts.

“Charmed Ones,” she said, “Your safety, magic,” Buffy recounted, and hesitated: “And Willow.”

The man, presumably Andrew, faltered at that, lips moving as he silently matched each of his queries with each of Buffy’s answers. Even if the term ‘Charmed Ones’ didn’t mean anything to him, the rest seemed to.

“Willow?” as he reached the end, he squeaked. “Evil makeover, bad mojo Willow?”

“We don’t know what she’s doing” Buffy said, “But she went after you last time. If she’s doing the same again…”

Andrew fidgeted, wrapping his arms around his body as if to hold himself together. It was almost comical, though Paige could dimly remember Willow mentioning what she’d done to Warren. Andrew’s gesture seemed much less amusing with that image in her mind.

“They’re the Charmed Ones,” Buffy said. “Powerful witches. You’ll be safe with them.”

“Safe?” Andrew echoed, a little dumbly.

“Safe,” Paige said. “Trust me, we do this a lot.”

Andrew’s eyes seemed almost haunted. He’d seen this Willow before: apparently he hadn’t forgotten.

He looked at the three Halliwells, apparently taking in the people assigned to protect him. Piper, with three baskets of potions, keenly paying attention to their surroundings. Phoebe, still scrying for Willow, watching the witch’s location. And Paige, probably the most unconcerned of all of them.

She trusted Willow. That wouldn’t change.

After a couple of seconds, Phoebe frowned, and muttered to herself as she span the crystal:

“Uh, guys,” she said, “She’s not moving any more. Think she’s settled down: found whatever it was she was looking for.”

Paige was the first, orbing behind Phoebe to avoid pushing her way past Buffy. Andrew jumped.

“Where is she?” Paige said, leaning over Phoebe’s shoulder rather than awaiting an answer.

“Park,” Phoebe said. “She’s not moving.”

The crystal leapt suddenly out of Phoebe’s hand, for no readily apparent reason. It shot in the air, twirled in a circle, then landed neatly at the same spot. Near-instantly, it jumped up again: that time, Phoebe snatched it up, pulling it from the map.

“And she’s using magic,” Phoebe said, “A lot of it. I think. Not exactly sure what that means.”

“The park?” Paige said.

“Yeah,” Phoebe said: looked at the map. Then, quickly, glanced back up: “Wait, Paige-”

Not waiting for her to finish her sentence, Paige dissolved into orbs of light, which quickly faded from view, shooting up through the ceiling.

Piper, Phoebe, and Buffy stared, all fully aware of where she was heading. Andrew swayed a little, faint.

“So,” he said, “Who’s the Vorlon?”

All eyes moved from the spot where Paige had been, to him.

“Babylon 5?” he said, “Kosh? Encounter suits? Anyone?”

Four sighs. 


	8. Fading Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things just get better and better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a little speculation as to how the Charmed universe works near the end. not explicitly canon, but certainly possible, and implied.   
> Anyway, have more Dark Willow! Enjoy!

Willow stood atop a grassy hill, her arms outstretched, chanting words in a long-forgotten language. The air crackled, and preternatural wind whirled: the air above her seemed to warp, and shimmer, a glimpse of something beyond occasionally, momentarily, appearing.

Her eyes were closed: pale, veined eyelids concealing darkness. Though she couldn’t see, and it was hard to hear over the rush of wind, her lips curled as soon as Paige orbed into being in front of her.

“Willow,” Paige spoke: half-shouted to be heard.

Her eyes opened, and they were still as black as before.

“I was wondering where you were,” Willow said, utterly unconcerned by the energies arcing above her. “Took your time.”

“I came as soon as I could,” Paige said.

“Why?” Willow said.

Paige hesitated. Willow had said that too quickly.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Paige said. “Willow, please, just stop this. You can recover, if you choose to: I heard that. You don’t need to be… like this.”

“Yes I do,” Willow said, barely thinking. “What do you really know about Willow?”

It was hard to talk to the not-Willow. Her mannerisms, her tone, all were painfully familiar: the sadism just didn’t belong. That, and her questions seemed to come from nowhere.

“What if I told you that, right now, Willow was glad?” the dark witch spoke. “She’s happy. She doesn’t need to worry, or care. Willow’s missed being me.”

There was nothing Paige could say to that: nothing that didn’t feel as though it wouldn’t fall flat. She didn’t believe the witch’s words for a second, didn’t accept this darkness was somehow closer to Willow’s heart than the redhead she’d come to know.

Still, not-Willow’s calm assuredness sent a shiver down her spine.

Hopefully apropos of nothing, Paige recalled something the Elders had idly mentioned: they didn’t know precisely how powerful Willow was. The hellmouth confused matters. It was wholly possible Willow was a match for the Power of Three.

And Paige stood alone.

“Do you want to hear a story?” not-Willow said.

There was no threat there. There was some sense of malevolence, no question; the same in any action this not-Willow made. Still, there was no indication she planned to put Paige in any danger: not that Paige thought even a Willow this corrupted would hurt her.

“Well?” Willow said. “You’ll like it. I promise.” She gave a disturbingly familiar smile, the effect only ruined by her empty eyes.

Uncertain, Paige nodded. Not-Willow’s smile became a grin.

“That’s better,” Willow said. “Once upon a time, there was a boy called Jesse. He was one of Willow’s best friends, someone she’d known for years,” it sounded like she was recounting a fairy tale, before her tone turned harsh: “Then, one day, he was captured, turned to a vampire, and killed.”

Willow’s eyes met Paige’s, as if that were comment enough. Uninterrupted, she continued the story, resetting her tone to the same, light recital.

“There was a woman called Jenny Calendar,” Willow said. “Willow admired her. She respected Jenny; she’d never been happier than when Jenny complimented her. Willow wanted to be just like Jenny when she grew up. Jenny was why she became a witch. Then someone Willow thought of as a friend snapped her neck.”

Willow’s words turned staccato, and Paige winced. Apparently unaffected, not-Willow continued.

“There was a boy called Oz,” Willow said. “He was Willow’s first love. Puppy love: the first Willow would call a boyfriend. He was bitten by a werewolf, caged up, out of control, every full moon, and screwed around with another wolf before leaving Willow alone.” A pause. “There was a woman called Tara.”

That was the first time not-Willow’s voice faltered. After the tragedies she’d listed, it still took Tara to reach her, it seemed.

Paige didn’t know what to think of that. Regardless, she listened. Not-Willow didn’t seem to want to be interrupted.

“Tara was wonderful,” Willow said. “She was the first time Willow felt- She was the first time I felt like I could face the world. She was happiness,” another falter, “And then Willow became a junkie. She didn’t tell you that, did she? Obsessed with magic, desperate for her next fix, she threw Tara away. And Tara, wonderful Tara, forgave her. Tara came back, and lit up the world again. And then a tiny piece of metal took that away from me.”

The air above Willow was still rippling, still unnaturally darkened. Whatever Willow was doing seemed to have paused, however, as she spoke: regardless, recalling Tara made it crackle. Paige flinched at the reverberation in the air.

Paige took a step back. For all her certainty Willow wouldn’t mean her harm, the rage resounding in not-Willow’s tone gave the distinct impression that there was nothing she wouldn’t do.

“There was Kennedy,” Willow said. “Willow saved the world, and Kennedy walked away. There was Xander: friends for years, then he moved off alone. There was Giles, who left the continent to escape her.”

“Willow-” Paige began, but not-Willow was in full swing.

“That’s the story,” she said, “Moving away: a different state, country, universe, a different life. Everyone Willow cares about leaves her. Everyone she loves, goes. Everyone I want to stay, doesn’t. And you think she doesn’t long to be free of that?”

For precious few seconds, Paige was lost for words. All she’d seen of not-Willow, the witch had seemed free of emotions. She’d seemed indifferent, uncaring: inhuman.

In the space of a question, Paige’s view had been shattered. Willow was the opposite. Paige felt both a surge of affection, and of fear.

“I’ll stay,” Paige said.

Her voice cracked: still, it was all she could think of to say. Some promise to keep Willow grounded.

“You can promise that?” not-Willow’s momentary vulnerability faded. “You can go out to face demons every day, and go to where witches cry out for your help, and promise that you’ll stay safe? What makes you the exception?”

“I’ve survived this long,” albeit with a few close calls. Paige hesitated: “Willow, please. This is Abraxas, this isn’t you. These aren’t your thoughts.”

Willow laughed. It was more a chuckle of amusement than any maniacal cackle, her lips curling just slightly.

“Abraxas?” Willow said.

To punctuate her words, the air above her flashed twice in quick succession. The instant between the two brief, white lights seemed, in contrast, to be a third flare, this one of black.

“I’ve surpassed him,” Willow said. “I surpassed him long ago, and he knows it. He’s been doing his best to run. All over the city.”

Now not-Willow wore a smile: and it was genuine, and somehow all the more disturbing for being so. It just didn’t suit her veined face.

In the darkened whorl above her head, a demon came into view. It didn’t wear a human form, like most higher-up demons did, instead possessing clammy skin, and two long, slightly curved horns. Its ears were long, and pointed, and as much as its inhuman face could be read, its expression seemed to be one of fear.

In the few seconds she saw it, Paige recognized it from the illustrations in the Book of Shadows. Abraxas.

“Bored now,” Willow said, her voice chiming.

The demon gave a cry of unutterable agony: and, as Paige watched, something tore it to shreds from the inside. In scant seconds, the source of all their troubles was turned to bloodless scraps of flesh, falling like confetti through the brief glimpse into its realm.

Willow’s hair and eyes remained black as void. The brief, fearful hope Paige had held flickered out: vanquishing Abraxas was all she’d had, to help turn Willow back. Despite being told it would fail, it was something else to see how utterly it did so.

And they’d thought it would be impossible for Willow to do that. They’d harboured a slight hope hellmouth magic would work under different rules, but none of them had really believed it; Abraxas held an element of Willow’s magic. The same principle had let him survive the Power of Three.

Still, a fully corrupted Willow had found a way past that, and torn him apart like it was nothing. For a moment, Paige was uncomfortably aware that she was genuinely scared of Willow, and what Willow could do.

But she was Willow. Still Willow. Surely she couldn’t be afraid of sweet, smiling Willow? The sweet, smiling Willow who grinned like all her birthdays had come at once at a shout of agony.

All that was left, was to hope Willow would choose good again. Paige wished she could think that was likely, but the more she heard about this darker Willow, the more she saw…

“We’ve got Andrew,” Paige said.

There was nothing to guarantee Willow would stick around, now: not now she’d vanquished Abraxas, which had apparently been what she wanted. Paige needed to pique her interest, to keep her near: and hope she could think of something.

“Andrew?” not-Willow tilted her head. “Oh. The other one. You can keep him, I’ve moved on.”

As they’d feared. Paige tried not to let her disappointment show.

“Then what do you want?” Paige said. “You can-”

“No more pain,” Willow said. “Can you and your sisters do that for me? Bring an end to pain.”

“We-” Silence.

It wasn’t a motivation Paige was used to hearing from evil. But then, Willow wasn’t, strictly speaking, evil. She’d been corrupted by the demon she’d just killed: and the fact she’d been able to kill that demon, meant she still bore some free will.

It wasn’t much, but it was a hope.

“I promise that we’ll try,” Paige said. “We can help. We- I won’t leave you.”

“How can you promise that? Willow said: raised her voice. “What makes you special? What makes you different to… Tara?”

Something shifted in Willow’s tone: demands became a kind of realization, though what of, Paige couldn’t say. She could only see that whatever anger had possessed Willow had trickled out. Rage and grief had been replaced by what might have been hope. Resolve.

For a moment, Paige dared think that there had merely been a delayed effect, that the death of Abraxas had changed things. Then eyes darker than ever looked up, and veined lips twisted into a smirk.

“See you soon,” not-Willow said: and the wind picked up once more, leaving no trace of the witch behind.

In seconds, the park was clear. Undisturbed, with no sign of what had just happened there.

Willow had thought of something: come up with some plan. Paige didn’t know what to think, though she suppressed the slight burning at how Tara had been the thought to inspire it.

She accepted Willow’s love for Tara, and she wouldn’t seek to change that. Tara’s death had been a tragedy, Willow was fully allowed to mourn. It was just frustrating that she could stand in front of Willow, that she could plead, and it was thoughts of Tara that changed things.

Shaking that off, Paige focused, and orbed from the desolate scene.

* * *

 

Back at the Halliwell Manor, Buffy and Andrew sat in the corner. Piper sorted through vanquishing potions, and Phoebe swung a crystal over a map.

The crystal promptly exploded. Piper quickly froze the debris, picking each shard out of the air, and sighing.

“Scrying’s not working any more,” Phoebe said. “She’s figured out how to block us. Or decided she doesn’t want to be interrupted now.”

“Imagine that,” Piper said, lightly sarcastic. She looked toward Paige: “You sure she didn’t say anything else? We’re kinda stuck otherwise.”

“Only what I’ve told you,” Paige said. “Killed Abraxas, talked about Tara, got this weird look in her eyes, and left.”

Phoebe had moved to the Book of Shadows, skimming through possible spells, by then. Part of Paige’s mind was, also, dedicated to trying and figuring out rhymes (or, at the very least, a haiku), if any would help.

If Willow was blocking their scrying though, she’d probably also be resistant to anything they tried. The Power of Three might just about be capable of pulling through, though it’d be close: but they still needed to work out what they wanted to do.

Leo had been relegated to snack duty while the rest worked on Willow.

Andrew stayed wherever the highest concentration of sisters was, apparently rather nervous. While Paige had been gone, Buffy had shared the story of the last time Willow had succumbed to darkness, in greater detail: Paige had gone to a few mentioned locations (even if most were in a crater now) to make sure Willow hadn’t returned to any.

There was no sign of Willow and, short of scouring the world, there didn’t seem to be any way to find her. Her way of teleporting around ensured there was no way of narrowing down her whereabouts.

“I thought you said you could always track her down?” Buffy said. “Something like that. You said you could find her.”

Paige turned her neck: didn’t speak. Leo shook his head.

“Not any more,” Paige said. “That only works if she’s my charge. She’s not, now.”

“Only good witches get whitelighters,” Leo said. “As soon as Willow stopped being one, the Elders rescinded her right.”

“Elders,” Buffy said, and sighed. “The more I hear about them, the less I like them. Any reason why, or just more annoying rules?”

“It’s dangerous,” Leo said.

Paige looked toward him, frowning. Buffy too seemed a little irritated at his vagueness.

“Dangerous?” Paige said, “I thought it was impossible?”

“You don’t know?” Buffy said: “I thought you were both…”

“I was born,” Paige said, “He became one after he died. He gets the whole handbook, I just get pointed in the general direction of a charge and told to hop to it.”

“That’s not fair,” Leo said, “You’ve got a lot more duties, as a Charmed One. I wasn’t really doing much after I-”

“Forget I said anything,” Buffy said. “What I want to know, is why?”

“Me too,” Paige said.

Leo sighed. Both Piper’s and Phoebe’s eyes went to him, as well. Andrew was far more focused on curling up by the wall, less aware of the species involved in the discussion, much less what was going on.

“You know how it is when you normally have a charge,” Leo said. “You’ve got their voice in your head, constantly. Imagine if that voice was evil: it’s worse the fewer charges you have. More and more of your mind is filled with evil. The consequences of that can never be good.”

“Still not feeling much more than vagueness here,” Buffy said.

“Fine,” Leo exhaled: “It’s one of the ways a darklighter can be born. Not something we- they like talking about.”

The three Halliwells hesitated, each remembering their experiences with darklighters. By no means the worst evils they’d faced, but a perilous species nonetheless. One of the few things capable of killing whitelighters.

“Oh come on,” a still unimpressed Buffy said. “Who names you people? Whitelighters, darklighters…”

Her levity didn’t go remarked upon. Each Halliwell knew all too well how it felt to lose a sister to darkness; even if it had been reversible, before.

“Is it certain?” Paige said.

“Yes,” Leo said. He hesitated: “But it’s not immediate.”

“How long would it take?”

“No idea,” Leo said. “The more powerful the witch, the stronger her influence. An hour, maybe. Not long. There’s a reason the Elders have a blanket ban.”

“I’ll risk it,” Paige said. “They owe me a favour by now.”  

Both Piper and Phoebe stepped forward.

“Paige-”

“What, like we haven’t done worse before now?” Paige said. “This is my choice, I’m happy to take the risk. Besides, I’m not in any danger. I trust her.”

It was nothing she could put into words: nothing she could explain. But when she’d faced not-Willow, when she’d stared into those soulless eyes, she’d still felt safe.

As much as Paige loathed the similarities between the evil witch and Willow, she had to admit that, ultimately, the two were the same person. If she had nothing to fear from Willow, she had nothing to fear from not-Willow.

That, and she knew Willow still felt. She was ruled as much by grief as rage: far from a typical force of evil. And if Willow could feel grief, then she could feel loss: and if she could lose, then she could love.

And evil could not love. There was hope.

“She’ll make the right choice,” Paige said to her sisters’ still somewhat-doubting faces.

“She will,” Buffy said: moved closer. “Good luck.”

Paige nodded her thanks, and slowly her sisters moved from uncertainty to solidarity.

“Good luck,” Piper echoed.

“Yeah,” Phoebe said, “Good luck Paige.”

A nod, and a smile: a quietly spoken ‘thank you’ before orbs of white light ascended through the roof. 


	9. New Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to confront Willow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end. As much as I'd like to tell more of this story, I don't have the time to overextend.   
> Enjoy!

It had taken a little bit of arguing. Thankfully, the debate was swiftly curtailed when the Angels of Death and Destiny had a brief word with one of the Elders. Moments after, a rather shaken Elder gave permission for Paige to take Willow on as a charge once again.

From the little Paige had been able to gather, Willow was up to something big, wielding magic on such a scale that the Elders couldn’t locate the epicentre: couldn’t find the witch behind it.

That, and the Angel of Death and an Angel of Destiny had apparently found it such a concern that they’d decided to intervene. Paige didn’t even want to think of what Willow must be planning.

Paige was to wait in the attic until Willow was made her charge once again. Knowing it was the best option, Paige agreed, and returned. It was mere seconds before her awareness of Willow filled her.

It was like being complete, again. It wasn’t just the fact it was Willow, it was just the sensation of having a charge. Any charge: the fact it was Willow’s voice she heard in her head was only an added bonus.

And not a good one. The sound was familiar, the words were not.

It felt almost profane to hear Willow’s thoughts whirl around in such a way: an indistinct mess of pain, and death, and violation. Desires Paige struggled to believe anyone would hold, much less Willow.

“Are you ok?” Someone spoke. Paige couldn’t tell who, one hand blindly reaching out: supporting herself on what she later found to be Buffy’s shoulder.

It was overwhelming.

Before, it had been possible to tune out the voice of her charge. Perhaps it because, then, they had enough in common that there was less contrast. With Willow especially, her mind had felt almost natural.

Now, things were conflicted. Every thought not-Willow had, Paige blanched at: her mind rebelled at it.

It took precious seconds for her to stand upright, and breathe as normal. Already she could feel the corruption promised her: the danger of being bonded to evil. For an instant, Paige felt doubt, felt as though she’d fail, and perhaps turn alongside Willow.

That was the darkness talking. Paige shook her head: straightened.

“I’m fine,” she said. Inhaled: “Right, it’s done. Give me a moment.”

In the rush, she’d nearly forgotten why she’d agreed to do this. It was their only hope at finding Willow: and talking her down. Paige wouldn’t give up that hope.

She wouldn’t leave Willow.

“Mexico,” Paige said. “She’s in Mexico, I-”

If she focused on a charge, she could sometimes pick up flashes. It wasn’t something she had much cause to do, not when she could orb to their side in a heartbeat, but now it felt best to be sure.

Certain words kept repeating themselves, in Willow’s minds. An incantation, it felt like, and a place. A name.

“She’s thinking…” Paige hesitated. “Something about Mictlan. Tlaloc. Tezcatlipoca. I don’t know what it means, it just won’t leave her mind.”

“Check the book,” Piper said, gesturing to Phoebe: who stood closer.

Before Phoebe so much as touched it, though, the book rifled through its own pages, flicking to just the double-page spread they were looking for. Andrew jumped: Piper shrugged.

“It does that sometimes,” she said.

He relaxed as much as he could. Uncertainly, Phoebe moved toward the book, and began to read.

“The Mictlan Passing,” she said. “The Aztec people practised human sacrifice: repeatedly, at the same geographical location, lives were lost, over a great span of time. This weakened the border between the realm of life and death: the weakest of these patches may be broken by a sufficiently powerful spell. This location we call the Mictlan Passing, after the Aztec term for one of the worlds beyond.”

A pause: Phoebe inhaled, letting her words sink in.

No wonder the Angel of Death had been around when she’d gone upstairs, Paige reflected. Willow was doing something that affected death: but what could be so major Destiny decided to intervene?

“When the border is shattered,” Phoebe continued, “The two realms will mingle. Death will become unreachable, no matter how much someone may age, or suffer: and every spirit of every life lived will pour through, filling the world. None may die, and the world will be filled by the souls and new bodies of the dead. All will suffer eternally, unable to escape even by death.”

That would do it. Paige suppressed a shudder at the desperation she felt in Willow’s mind, the eagerness for the hell Phoebe had just described. Life said nothing about the quality of life: and in the world Willow was aiming for, the quality would be abysmal, and inescapable.

“An accord was reached,” Phoebe continued, voice shaking just slightly, “Between the forces of good and evil. None sought to call upon the Mictlan Passing, neither having anything to gain from its use.”

Willow was ending death. That would explain the Angel of Destiny’s worry, then. Something not even the forces of evil wanted to do.

It wasn’t a goal any faction sought. Only the kind of mind that sought to end the world’s pain with an apocalypse might consider it.

“Why would she want to do that?” Phoebe said, her voice quieter now she was no longer reading.

Paige and Buffy shared a look. Both of them knew the answer, however much it made Paige feel a pang to admit it. Bring every spirit in death back to life? Of course Willow would seek that.

Not that it was anything Tara would want. That was the danger when Willow was like this, she’d obsess: she’d focus on achieving one aim, and forget whether it was something the person she was ‘helping’ even wanted.

“She would,” Paige said. Buffy nodded, wordless.

Piper gave a frustrated sigh: “Can anyone in this house have a normal relationship? I mean really, we’ve had warlocks, ghosts, movie characters, cupid, the Source of All Evil…”

“Vampires,” Buffy raised her hand. “See if you’re living on a hell-mouth. Plays havoc with relationships, take it from me.”

A brief chuckle. Paige found herself smiling at the welcome distraction, before taking a step away from her sisters. If she didn’t have long before the corruption took hold, she couldn’t afford to waste time.

“I’ve got to go,” Paige said.

She didn’t wait for any reaction, focusing on where she sensed Willow being, and calling on her power to orb. In seconds, she was gone.

Something felt a little off, but she felt herself travel, and so ignored her uncertainty. She didn’t notice the spots of darkness, the iconic lights of a darklighter, slowly taking hold as she orbed away.

* * *

 

The Mictlan Passing. It was a temple, though something about it didn’t seem quite right. There was a sense of ill in the air, and the stones of the ruin were hard to focus on. If Paige hadn’t known what she was looking for, and hadn’t been able to feel Willow’s presence, she might have ignored it.

No doubt one of the defences put up around it, just in case. Defences Willow had already been through.

Fighting the nausea that had been growing in her ever since she’d orbed, Paige hurried closer. Willow was at the base of a stone set of steps, dark lightning crackling between her fingertips, and making the land shudder.

“Willow!” Paige lifted her voice: not-Willow turned.

She seemed surprised. Inasmuch as it was possible to read emotion into that pale face, and those dark eyes, she didn’t seem to expect to see Paige there.

The whirling sense of her charge, Willow’s thoughts, momentarily increased in intensity. Paige caught her own name a few times.

“Look who’s here,” Willow said. “Try and stay over there.”

“And if I don’t?” Paige said: moved closer.

“Then you’ll get in the way,” Willow said. “You might not like the consequences.”

As if to punctuate her words, she raised a hand: thrust it toward the temple. Energy shot out, briefly surging, and encircling the peak. As the violet magic faded, the outline of something was just about visible. Some tear: the Mictlan Passing itself.

“You won’t hurt me,” Paige said. She took another step.

“I’d be careful,” Willow said. She did her best to seem neutral. “This is very strong stuff. Getting in the way might be fatal.”

“You definitely won’t kill me,” Paige said.

“Haven’t you heard?” Willow grinned: “Even if I did, it won’t matter. Give it a few minutes, you’ll come back.”

Willow’s voice was playful. How could she be playful, here of all places?

“Is that really what you want?” Paige said.

Willow sent more magic arcing up to the top of the temple, illuminating the tear once more.

“You think it isn’t?” Willow said. Still, she seemed amused.

It wasn’t enjoyment, Paige realized then. She could both see it in the witch, and feel it. It was detachment: that and obsession seemed to be this Willow’s defining traits. She refused to let herself feel any more than she had to.

Willow didn’t care. The thought almost made Paige stagger: it was too different to the redhead she’d-

“I know why you’re doing this,” Paige said, and tried not to let regret show in her tone.

”Do tell,” Willow said: smirked.

“It’s Tara, isn’t it?” Paige said. “You think, if you bring her back, you’ll… Do you think she’ll thank you for doing this?”

An instant of silence. Willow faltered when next she raised her arm, though she sent out magic nonetheless.

For a second, the void in her eyes cleared. There was no indication she was moving away from darkness, though: only that her store of magic might be lessening.

“You think it’s Tara,” Willow said. Her voice seemed somehow flatter, now her eyes were cleared.

“You’re ending death,” Paige said. “Everyone who’s gone returns. Who-”

“And everyone who’s alive, stays alive,” Willow said. “I told you. Willow loses everyone, one way or another. If I do this, she- I won’t lose anyone. Never again.”

Willow’s voice raised: and more magic was sent out. The latest burst lasted a few seconds longer, and as soon as it subsided, something seemed to have altered.

The ritual wasn’t complete yet: but the Mictlan Passing was thrumming. There was what felt like a heartbeat in the world around them, now. A slow beat, immeasurably vast, immeasurably ancient, but unmistakable. In time with the end of each beat, Willow exerted more magic.

“I-it’s me?” Paige said: hesitated.

Willow said nothing: though she did miss one beat.

Any other time, Paige might have felt sick. There were things she never wanted done in her name: this, unquestionably, was one of them.

“You don’t want to lose me,” Paige said, echoing Willow’s voice. “You don’t, and you’re doing this?”

“Everyone goes,” Willow said. Flat.

“So will I,” Paige said. “If you do this, you’ll lose me, as surely as if you’d killed me. You won’t- I…”

If it were anyone else, Paige might have called her sisters.

Even now, though, she couldn’t think of Willow as malevolent. Abraxas had darkened her magic: taken her back to the worst point in her life. An evil Willow was a Willow ruled, not by sadism, but by grief.

It said something about Willow, that the worst evil Abraxas could dredge up in her was love lost. That which she did in its name might be horrific, but the motivation was not an evil one.

Which meant she could choose, and she could make the right choice.

“You’ll lose me,” Paige said, again, “Because you won’t be Willow. I know Willow, and I know what she can do.”

“Ruin her friends’ lives,” not-Willow said, “Kill the people she loves. Mess with their memories. Lie to their faces.”

“That’s the past,” Paige said. “The Willow who refuses to forgive herself for doing that, the Willow who saved the world, the Willow I know: I trust her, and I know what she will, and what she won’t do.”

“You think I don’t want to do this?” More magic.

“I know it,” Paige said. “I’m your whitelighter: you’re my charge. I can feel you. The doubt, the uncertainty you won’t admit to. It’s there: and if I can feel it, I know you can. You can change your mind. Make the right choice.”

A step closer. Willow shrunk back, almost forgetting to send more violet energy to the Mictlan Crossing. The tear bulged: pulsated.

“You think Willow’s capable of that?” not-Willow said. Paige smiled.

“I know you are,” a step closer.

Another burst of magic, though this one seemed to falter somewhat. It wasn’t long now, though what to, Paige couldn’t say.

“How?” not-Willow said.

“Because I love you,” Paige said, “And one of the reasons I do, is because this is something you could never do. This is something you don’t want.”  
Willow extended her arm. No magic; only faint flickers of light, falling and fading as they hit the stone ground.

“I love you,” Paige said, again.

Something in the world shifted at those words. Something in Paige’s mind quietened: became less oppressive, less overwhelming: and she watched as the darkness evaporated from Willow’s hair. She watched as paleness was replaced by a far healthier complexion, and veins faded from view.

For a moment it was Willow standing there: and then she fell to her knees. Paige orbed the final few steps to catch her, thankfully noting her orb-travel felt as it should.

She caught Willow, her arms under the redhead’s, and they sunk to their knees together. Willow’s head turned: buried itself in the crook of Paige’s neck.

“I’ve got you,” Paige’s voice went from raised to be heard over the (now dwindling) heartbeat, to a comforting whisper. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you. I’m here.”


	10. Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The threat is resolved, and what passes for normality resumes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a much shorter epilogue, to finish things off. I hope you enjoy the story!  
> There probably won't be any more, but I know I've said that before. We'll see.

Willow hadn’t wanted to talk about it. As soon as they got back to San Francisco, she asked to be alone: Paige lent her room to the redhead, asking that Willow only call her name.

While she was in there, Paige explained what had happened at the Mictlan Passing. One of the Elders had come down to listen, though they barely intervened. It was a woman Paige only dimly recognized; she’d been around when they were discussing Willow’s fate as her charge.

Paige did notice Buffy give the Elder a double-take though.

When the tale was told, Paige sat down, closing her eyes. She didn’t listen to Willow’s thoughts, respecting her privacy at that time, but rather tuned them out until they were no more than an indistinct hum. It was that hum she listened to: relaxed to.

It was a few minutes before the hum became a summons. Immediately, Paige stood, quickly explained herself, and ascended the stairs to her room.

Willow was sitting on her bed. Her eyes were dry, but red. Paige entered, and closed the door.

“Do you want me to go?” Willow said, as soon as the door touched its frame.

“Go?” Paige said: “Go where?”

Willow shrugged. “Away. Anywhere, I guess. After that, you won’t want to…”

“No,” Paige said immediately. At Willow’s expression, she quickly continued: “No, I don’t want you to go. Not anywhere: if you want to stay, you’re welcome to. And I’d love you to.”

“Even after I…”

“I’m not going to blame you for what Abraxas did,” Paige said. “We’ve all been victims of a demon. You can’t be held responsible.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Willow shook her head: “It was still me. All of that. Like it was before, it’s what I could do. What I’ve come too close to doing. Don’t act like it’s someone else, I don’t- I hate it, but that’s me.”

She looked down, trusting her disjointed speech was clear. She didn’t meet Paige’s eyes.

Paige moved closer, until she stood by the redhead: she placed a finger under Willow’s chin, and lifted it: met her eyes.

“I know,” Paige said. “The fact you could be that, and the fact you choose to be this, that means even more. I meant it when I said I loved you.”

Willow’s eyes widened, in what was either disbelief or hope. A kiss later, and Paige sat beside her on the bed.

“Sorry you had to see that,” Willow said, eventually.

Paige smiled.

“Um,” Willow said. “One thing, when you said- Did you really think I was doing it for Tara?”

“Kinda,” Paige admitted. “It just… fit, after all I’d heard.”

A few seconds of silence, of hesitation.

“I love Tara,” Willow said eventually. “That won’t change. I do, and I will. I just- I know it’s over, now. Took me the better part of a year, but I accept that. I can love her, and I can move on.”

Their eyes met again. Willow’s were still red: they still hurt Paige to see.

“Thank you,” Paige said.

That time, Willow leant forward, to initiate. When their lips met, Paige closed her eyes, gratefully losing herself in the situation.

Strange how quickly she’d become used to this. It seemed almost natural to be with Willow, to hold her; returning to her embrace, to her lips, after the latest catastrophe was like being home.

* * *

 

Some time later, a slightly nervous Willow went out to reintroduce herself to Paige’s family. Buffy and Andrew had quickly been dropped off where they’d come from, leaving just the Halliwells, and Leo.

Paige went downstairs first, to engage in another quick catch-up. When she felt ready, Willow moved to the stairs. The sisters turned as she came into view.

“Um,” Willow waved shyly, “Hi?”

“Hello again,” Piper said, prolonging the words slightly. “Back to your normal?”

“Um, yeah,” Willow said. “Um, sorry about the-”

“Oh, don’t apologize,” Piper said, “Paige explained. Besides, we kinda ended the world too once. Well, ended free will,” Piper shrugged, “Everyone makes mistakes.”

“One of the family,” Phoebe said: chuckled.

It still amazed Willow how blasé the Charmed Ones could be. Then again, a lot must have happened to them. Still, somehow, it was comforting.

“In more ways than one, it looks like,” Phoebe said. She nodded at Willow’s and Paige’s interlinked hands. Willow hadn’t even realized she’d done that.

Instinctively, Willow jumped: glanced at Paige, who smiled.

“I told them,” Paige said, “It’s fine.”

Willow exhaled, relieved; she smiled. Then, her smile turned to a smirk.

“Guess that means I can kiss you any time, huh?” Willow said.

“Guess it does,” Paige echoed the smirk.

Off to the side, Piper rolled her eyes. Willow caught sight of her doing so, and when Paige moved closer for the offered kiss, Willow placed a finger on her lips.

“First though,” Willow said, softly, “How about a date?”

“A date?” Paige tilted her head.

“Take me somewhere,” Willow said.

“Where?” Paige said. Willow shrugged.

“Anywhere,” a grin: “Surprise me, angel.”

Chuckling, Paige reached forward, to embrace Willow. After a few long, luxuriating moments, each dissolved into orbs of white light.


End file.
